


Run to Redemption

by riverchic1998



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen, Humor, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverchic1998/pseuds/riverchic1998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ministry of Magic needs a go-between stationed at the new Watcher's Council and Slayer Training Center in England, and Draco draws the short stick. When family obligations brings his past back to haunt him, a group of twitchy, obnoxious slayers and one nosy, know-it-all former classmate are the least of his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed notes and acknowledgments are at the end, but first I have to throw this out there. Many thanks go to the lovely Jo Anne Storm and Sam for the beta, and Kalina Blue for being an awesome cheerleader.
> 
> As usual, Jacy has my undying gratitude for putting up with me, helping me through the rough parts, making sure that the fic flowed smoothly, and for amusing me when this fic was about to run me into the ground.

  
………………….  
  
Draco was dreading this with all of his life. Before him were the double doors that led into a conference room reserved for the most private of meetings in the Ministry. It had a private Floo that only the Minister could allow people to use, and the sheer amount of wards and privacy charms set around it made his skin crawl.   
  
All of this was necessary. Behind the mahogany doors was his new assignment, or as he was calling it, his new punishment. Draco wasn’t stupid. It didn’t matter that the war which devastated the Wizarding World had been over for just past eight years. It didn’t matter that his father was crucial in the round up of the remaining Death Eaters and was fully cooperative with the Ministry as a consultant on the Dark Arts. It didn’t matter that the amount of money they shelled out every year to pay for damages of any sort was more than some people would be worth in their entire life. He still had to suffer for his sins and the sins of his father.  
  
It was really beginning to piss him off.   
  
After the war, Lucius arranged for him to have a private tutor and take his NEWTs. He tested extremely well, but there was hardly a job that would hire him for anything, regardless of his qualifications. The Ministry was his last option, and after a year of searching with nothing to show for it, he retreated to his fail-safe back up plan. Draco was content to never work again, but any time he ever mentioned it, his mother would glare at him until he balked, which happened much sooner than he liked to admit.  
  
Much to his surprise, he ended up _liking_ work, mostly because he was damn good at it. When he was younger, his father always insisted he learn even the most obscure wizarding laws, and that knowledge was paying off. He wasn’t a barrister by any means, but he knew the laws, and by association the loopholes, inside and out. His beginning job of “office bitch,” as Draco labeled himself in the early years, quickly turned into a semi-respected consultant position.   
  
It didn’t stop the whispers or the accusing glares that sometimes crossed his path, but he was getting better at hiding how much they bothered him. When he first started, he would come home in tears because of all the rude remarks and gestures thrown his way during the day. He’d gotten scarily adept at the charm used to re-file papers because the Ministry favorite was knocking papers off the side of his cramped little desk. His job became less about bringing in money for himself and more about proving himself.   
  
The turning point came when one of the advisors to Robards, the new Minister after the war, royally fucked up customs in an Asian country on a business trip; the whole Pacific Rim was up in arms. The Minister of Japan paid a personal visit to England and began quoting laws left and right about how the disgraceful employee would be punished and the Minister would see him Kissed if he could. He was shouting in Robards’ face, embarrassing him in the middle of the Atrium. Draco had been about to leave when he’d heard the Japanese Minister mis-quote a law and threaten to have Robards stripped of his position.   
  
Draco quietly asked the Japanese Minister to repeat the law, and informed him of the error he made. When the Japanese Minister paused, Draco started correcting him on more errors he heard. From that point, past instances of skirmishes between Japan and England came pouring out of his mouth, and before he knew it, he was chastising the Japanese Minister and threatening to have _him_ stripped of his position because _he_ was violating laws by coming to England and not following proper foreign channels for travel and even not surrendering his wand as soon as he entered the country.   
  
Everyone had stared at him in shock when he finally stopped shouting and he was all but ready to be carted off to Azkaban, but the Japanese Minister backed down, apologized, and dismissed the issue. Draco wasn’t exactly hailed a hero, but no one doubted his knowledge in the area of laws and international business.   
  
People started asking Draco questions about different legal problems they were having, and he didn’t mind giving out free advice. Kingsley Shacklebolt heard him threaten a previous Death Eater who had the gall to insult his mother and was highly, yet grudgingly, impressed, mostly because all the harm he promised was completely legal. From that point on, Aurors brought him into questionings and he let them know what punishments were legal and which ones weren’t. It was a morally gray area that he wasn’t afraid to dive in to.   
  
All of that didn’t matter, because what was behind the door was still a punishment. People had been sending him sympathetic looks and he’d gotten more pats on the back than he was comfortable with. It was technically a promotion of sorts because he wasn’t restricted to the Ministry anymore, but being placed with a bunch of teenage girls who could snap him like a twig with their pinky fingers wasn’t a promotion. It was hell surrounded by pigtails.  
  
With a deep breath, Draco pushed open the doors and prepared to step into his new life as the Ministry Liaison for the Watchers Council and Slayer Training Center. What he saw when he entered was not what he expected.   
  
There were four women and two men in the room, all dressed in Muggle clothes, and all a lot younger than he expected, with the exception of the gentleman off to the side. Draco didn’t have time to really get a look at them before he was slammed against the wall near the door by the dark brunette whose clothing showed a bit more skin than a lady should. His breath was knocked out of his lungs and he coughed a bit. His toes were scraping the floor because she lifted him up a bit with her one hand, which instantly made him nervous.   
  
“Faith, we talked about this. You aren’t allowed to play with the wizards,” the redhead in the corner said sternly. She crossed her arms and didn’t back down when the woman holding him up pouted.   
  
“Fine, Red. Spoil my fun.”  
  
She let him go, and Draco slid down the wall the extra few inches and leaned back against the wooden panels to make sure he didn’t fall over. He was still trying to catch his breath.  
  
“Is anyone else kind of weirded out by the fact that we’re staring at a living version of Spike?” the man with the eye-patch asked, only to have his arm punched by the other brunette in the room who was sitting by him.   
  
“Shut _up_ , Xander,” she muttered and Draco wondered who the hell named their children Faith, Red, and Xander. Strange Americans. And why was he being compared to a living version of a spike? Was the eyesight in the one good eye of the strange Muggle man that bad?  
  
Draco finally had his breath back and he was able to straighten his shoulders. His nicely pressed robes were wrinkled from the twitchy slayer’s grip, but after looking at the lot he’d be working with, he didn’t see it being that much of a problem.   
  
“I’m sorry for the rude welcome, but might I inquire after your name?”  
  
He would never acknowledge it, but he nearly cried in relief when he heard the native accent from the older gentleman standing by the window. At least he wouldn’t be completely alone.  
  
“My name is Draco Malfoy. I’m the new Ministry Liaison between the Council and the Ministry.”  
  
That brought a bit of understanding to the eyes of those around him, and he was glad he wasn’t surrounded by complete incompetents. The only person left to speak was the blonde lounging in the chair at the head of the table. She was scrutinizing him and he only raised an eyebrow back. Finally, she spoke, not that he understood what the bloody hell she meant.   
  
“Personally, I think he looks like Randy Giles.”  
  
Everyone laughed at that except the woman who had pinned him. The redhead giggled but clapped her hands over her mouth. “I’m not allowed to think that’s funny, am I?”  
  
“Well if anyone should be offended, it should be me,” the elderly gentleman said. “Insinuating that Spike was my son is an insult.”  
  
“Yeah, to him,” the younger brunette said with a laugh.   
  
He sighed and rolled his eyes. This wasn’t going at all like he had hoped. He was saved by the Minister walking into the conference room. He was pleased to see Draco there.   
  
“Ah, excellent, Draco. I trust you’ve met everyone?”  
  
“To an extent,” Draco replied dryly. That brought a few giggles from the other side of the room. Lovely. He despised gigglers.   
  
“Well, this is Draco, your new Liaison,” Robards said as he took a seat opposite the Strange Blonde. Draco took a seat next to the Minister. “He’s one of our finest consultants when it comes to the laws revolving around our society.”  
  
Twitchy Brunette eyed Draco and he just knew he was being visually undressed. While he wasn’t new to this type of attention, he didn’t like it from someone who could toss him out a window. “Seems a little young.”  
  
Almost the entire group rolled their eyes and he got the impression she was a playgirl going through the motions. If the Minister picked up on it, he ignored the tension in the air. “I can assure you, Draco comes highly qualified. You can ask him about any law and he’ll tell you the details.”  
  
“Very well,” Elderly Gentleman said as he took off his glasses and cleaned them. “What is the law pertaining to the treatment of pixies after to the year sixteen hundred?”  
  
Draco’s first thought was _are you fucking kidding me?_. He then translated that thought into a look and sent it in Robards’ direction. The Minister just smiled and gestured for him to go ahead.   
  
“Can’t do it?” One Eyed Man said with a smirk, and Draco glared at him.   
  
“If you wanted to test my knowledge, you should have gone back before the twelve hundreds. The Latin is harder to translate,” Draco replied smarmily before turning back to Elderly Gentleman. “Which race?”  
  
“Excuse me?” he asked, clearly taken off guard.   
  
“There are three species of pixies, and over a dozen races classified between the species as mandated by the Minister of Magic in 1328. You’ll have to be more specific. There are more laws on Ixie than any of the other races, but that’s only because the hunting law mandated in 1814 completely negated their protection law put into motion in 1762 and caused an uproar which resulted in a near extinction and a series of addendums to the currency orders going through the Wizengamot at the time. The result of that idiocy was a near crash in the economy and the goblins threatening to pack their bags and take our money with them.”  
  
Red was alternating grins between the Elderly Gentleman and Draco. “I think he knows about the pixies, Giles.”  
  
“Very well. I concede defeat.”  
  
The Minister laughed and stood from his seat, walking behind Draco and clapping him on the shoulder. It was all for show, because Robards himself had reminded Draco that morning that with one toe out of line he was destined for Azkaban. “Well, I will let you all get better acquainted. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to Floo.”  
  
When the Minister left, Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair. Twitchy Brunette snorted. “Is he always so damn cheerful?”  
  
“He’s finally getting rid of me, so today is special,” Draco replied, glaring at the fireplace half-heartedly.  
  
“Getting rid of you? What is that supposed to mean?” the Other Brunette asked.   
  
Draco looked over at her in surprise. Curious expressions were also mirrored on the other faces in the room as well. “You mean he didn’t tell you?”  
  
“Tell us what?”   
  
He resisted the urge to bang his head into the table. Robards was throwing him in this blindly. Since it was Draco’s job to educate the slayers on the history of the Wizarding World, he wasn’t sure if Robards was testing him to make sure he told an unbiased account or hoped they ripped him limb from limb when they found out what he was.   
  
“I’m being punished,” Draco replied wryly, “in almost every sense of the word. The list for people signing up to be your babysitter isn’t exactly all that long, you realize.”  
  
“Babysitter?” One Eyed Man said, irritated. “You’re not our babysitter. A, we don’t need one, and B, if we did, which we don’t, we could probably do a heck of a lot better than you.”  
  
Draco chuckled as he stood. “No, you really couldn’t.” He reached into his robe pocket to pull out the information he’d prepared for them beforehand, Floo addresses and the like, when he felt a brush against his mind. It was light and he almost didn’t feel it.   
  
He looked up sharply, trying to judge which one of the Muggles wasn’t exactly a Muggle. The redhead looked like she’d just been hit with a lightning hex, so he figured he’d found his culprit.   
  
“Who the hell do you think you are, going around looking in someone’s head like that?” he asked lowly, gripping his wand tightly behind his robes.   
  
Everyone else looked just as shocked, but Red quickly paled. “I’m, I’m sorry! I didn’t, I-I-I just—”  
  
“You just what?” he hissed, bringing out his wand in plain view. “Went poking about in my head without my permission? Here’s lesson number one. Do it again, and you’ll be arrested. Invasive mind magic like that is against the law.”  
  
Not-Amusing Blonde lost all laughter when he drew his wand, and now she was standing in front of him, almost blocking him from getting to Red. Twitchy Brunette was doing the same.   
  
“What’s the matter? Did she see something you didn’t want her to? She didn’t know it was against your laws, so stop being so hard on her.”  
  
Not-Amusing Blonde shifted to Bitchy Blonde in his head as Draco raised his eyebrow. “She didn’t see anything. She couldn’t have even if she had all day to get in my head.”  
  
Bitchy Blonde looked at Red, who nodded. “It was like steel. Glory was easier to access than him, and we all know what she was.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter if you classify them as _my_ laws or not,” Draco said loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “You are in this country and are bound by England’s magical laws. We’re a bit harder on our criminals than most countries. I’ll try to give you a crash course, but forgive me for not expecting one of you to take the coward’s way out of learning about me.”  
  
“Hey!” Red said, sitting up and gaining a bit of color to her cheeks. “People lie, bub, so that’s how I find out the truth, not that it helped with you.” She lost some of her righteous indignation and started to pout. It took all of Draco’s strength not to smirk at her.  
  
“Yes, well, it’s not like it was difficult to keep you out. You’re not the first murderer who has been in my head.”  
  
For the second time in ten minutes, he found himself slammed against the wall, but not by Twitchy Brunette. Bitchy Blonde was doing just fine holding him where she wanted him all by herself.   
  
“Pretty spry for a tiny thing, aren’t you?” he grunted out. Her glare intensified.   
  
“I’d shut up if I were you, especially about things you don’t understand.”  
  
That shocked a laugh out of Draco. “Oh, please. Is that supposed to be a threat? Do you think I could lie about something like that? Why lie when the truth hurts so much more?” His gaze traveled to Red who was staring at him with a very pale face.   
  
“How?” she asked, her voice ringing with desperation.   
  
“I’d be much more inclined to speak if I wasn’t dangling by my very expensive robe collar,” he replied, looking down at Bitchy Blonde who narrowed her eyes at him. She ended up lessening her hold on him so he slid down the wall, but she yanked him close.   
  
“If you upset her, you’ll upset me, and I could so kick you out a window.”  
  
Draco brushed her off and straightened himself, ignoring the threats. “Explain yourself. How what?”  
  
“How did you keep me out, how did you know what I did, why are you not running and telling your boss, anything…”  
  
His eyebrow rose. They really didn’t know anything about him. “I kept you out because the summer I turned fifteen, I spent every waking moment keeping a psychotic killer from literally ripping open my skull. I learned a few tricks for the sake of my life.”  
  
There were looks of disbelief aimed at him, but he wasn’t here to convince them of his less than stellar home life. “I know that you also took lives because it doesn’t matter how long ago it was or how many people you killed, it taints your magic. As for not running to tell my boss, as you put it, well,” Draco smirked and crossed his arms. “That’s a bit hypocritical of me.”   
  
This time he was prepared and had his wand out and against the collarbone of Bitchy Blonde as quickly as he could. “Pin me against the wall again and you’ll be visiting the bottom of the Thames River.”  
  
The tension was thick in the air, but footsteps broke the silence. Elderly Gentleman walked up beside Bitchy Blonde and put his hand on her shoulder. Without taking her eyes from Draco’s, she stepped back and let the man speak.   
  
“My name is Rupert Giles, and I am the new Head of the Council. I do wish we could continue this meeting without any further threats or violence. Perhaps a show of good faith on your end would make things run smoother?”  
  
He finally broke the heated gaze between himself and the freakishly strong blonde to scoff at the man he now knew was Mr. Giles. “I have been nothing but accommodating, sir. I was attacked, unprovoked, the moment I stepped inside. I was subject to a very invasive, personal mental attack without being asked. I was then attacked, yet again, by another member of your party. What more a show of good faith could I possibly make than not yelling for Aurors to come arrest your right now?”  
  
Mr. Giles instantly nodded and stepped back. “I agree. We are, as you said, now in your hands when it comes to walking in this new land, and we are not aiming to step on toes.”  
  
Draco saw that almost as one the group let the tension out of their shoulders. The two slam happy women also turned their backs to him and sat down. He put away his wand and sighed, sitting down in the chair he originally occupied. Pulling out the file he’d intended to retrieve from his robes before Red had gotten curious, Draco enlarged it with his wand.   
  
“These are some of the most recent updates to our judicial system that you might want to take a look at. These laws are the ones I found that related closely to your situation. Even though the Watcher’s Council existed in England for many centuries, it was passive. There was never a need for my position before.”  
  
“Babysitter,” Twitchy Brunette said with a snort as she leaned back in her chair. “That’s rich.”  
  
“Like it or not, I’m here to keep you from fucking up, something you’ve already done twice since I’ve met you today.” Draco rose from his seat. “If you’d like, I can explain to the Minister that you are refusing me and my help, but be prepared for a war.”  
  
The tension was back tenfold. Draco expected Mr. Giles to break the silence, but was surprised when Bitchy Blonde did it.   
  
“Faith, relax. We’re here to play nice, remember?” She turned to him and steadied herself by taking a deep breath. “Giles is right. We got off on the wrong foot. I’m Buffy Summers.”  
  
She held out a hand to shake, but Draco couldn’t take it anymore. “Who the bloody hell names the children in America? Are they all drunk when they do it?”  
  
Instead of getting angry, Buffy just sighed and stretched her hand out farther. “Because Draco is so normal?”  
  
Draco had a horrible flashback to his first year when Weasley laughed at him, but this time he was being offered the hand. With horror, he realized he was comparing himself to Potter and resisted the urge to do a mental cleaning spell.   
  
“Here? Yes.” Regardless, he took her hand but didn’t shake it like she had expected. Draco brought her small hand quickly to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before letting her hand drop.   
  
The Other Brunette perked up. “Oooh, do all wizards act all chivalrous?”  
  
“Only the ones raised with a mediocre amount of decorum. In a word, no.”  
  
“That’s my sister, Dawn,” Buffy said, and Draco nodded, figuring she would go through introductions. It would be nice to have names instead of nicknames in his head, as humorous as they were.   
  
“The guy sitting next to Dawn is Xander.” The One Eyed Man saluted him. Cute. “You already know Faith and her manhandling ways, and then our own resident witch is Willow.”  
  
Willow waved weakly and Draco raised an eyebrow, making her wince. She muttered something, but all he heard was “cookies”.   
  
After the introductions, Buffy turned to Draco again. “So, what happens next? Do we get a history lesson for the next few hours or what?”  
  
He just blinked. They really had absolutely no idea of what they were getting into. “I think it would be wise if you informed me what you were told about this position. I believe there have been holes in our communication.”  
  
Mr. Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief he pulled from his vest pocket. “We were written to by someone from the Ministry staff explaining who they were and what setting up our new residences in England would entail. They offered help and said they would provide a specialist who would aid in the acclimation.”  
  
Draco’s first thought was _oh, bugger_. His second though ran along the lines of _I’m going to kill the Minister_. “Well then, Mr. Giles, I’m afraid you were grossly misinformed.”  
  
“Do tell."  
  
“My new job is _you_. All my other tasks have been delegated to others. Minister Robards declared that to be a competent and aware liaison, I must reside within the Council at all times and devote my working hours to your judicial needs. I am to instruct you and yours on proper wizarding guidelines and make sure you don’t step on any toes, as you put it.”   
  
Faith grinned as she leaned forward and crossed her arms on the table. “So you’re basically our little slave?”  
  
“I told you, I’m being punished. I’m expendable,” Draco said. “They’re half hoping I piss one of you off and you kill me or feed me to a vampire or something of that nature.”  
  
Willow gasped, her hands covering her mouth. “But we’d never do that.”  
  
Draco smirked. “Oh, I don’t know. I had two slayers slam me against a wall within ten minutes of first meeting me. I’d say I’m well on my way to a new record.”  
  
…………………  
  
Draco packed all of his things so he could move into the new Council. Blaise was moving into his flat until he was either killed or relinquished of his post, which he’d already heard was cause for a gambling pool at work. Most of the individuals who worked closely with him were very confident in his abilities to piss people off. It was almost endearing.   
  
His two trunks were full and so he shrunk them and placed them in his pockets. He would have to hook up the Floo himself when he arrived at the Council and so that meant Portkey, since he had no bloody clue about the layout of the grounds. He didn’t want to Apparate himself into a fountain or a tree, because that was just how his luck was running these days.   
  
Once he’d landed on the grass outside of the Council, he threw away the small Muggle coin that had been the Portkey. His eyebrows went up when he saw the grounds. At least whoever picked out the location had style. He had been half-worried that he’d be shoved into some rundown hovel that put the shrieking shack to shame.   
  
A rail-thin young woman was sitting on the steps sunning herself with her eyes closed, her pale skin even paler because of her darker clothes and her bright red hair. For a moment, Draco panicked, thinking that the youngest Weasley was here to hex him for something, but this woman’s hair was chopped almost completely off, and the bone structure was different. The way her legs were stretched out, he could see she was much taller than the Weasley girl. As he got closer, the young woman opened her eyes and grinned at him. She bounced off the seat and skipped a bit down to where he was still coming up the walk. Draco instantly thought she was entirely too chipper for his liking.  
  
“Hi,” she said, her American accent clear. “I’m Vi, one of the senior slayers. I was supposed to help you with your things, but I can see you don’t have any.” She was looking around him; the Muggle-ness of the whole situation made him uneasy.   
  
“Draco Malfoy,” he said introducing himself, and the slayer giggled.   
  
“That’s an interesting name.”  
  
“Because Vi is so damn normal.”  
  
If she was offended, she didn’t show it, and Draco was glad. He was going to have to learn to control his tongue. These were slayers and who knew what they’d do to him if they were pissed off at something.   
  
“My name is Violet, but I shortened it.”  
  
He made a face. “Why on earth would you do that? A close friend of mine has a sister named Violet. It’s a perfectly decent name.”  
  
Violet just grinned at him. “Whatever. So, I’m supposed to take you inside and show you around a bit, unless you just want to go straight to your rooms and nap or something.”  
  
The urge to retreat into his room and stay there until he was needed was strong, but he figured he might as well get the hellish ritual of being shown around over with. “Very well, Violet, I’ll take the tour.”  
  
They began walking, but Violet scrunched her nose up at her name. “Call me Vi.”  
  
“Nonsense,” Draco replied, staring straight ahead as the ascended the stairs. “Your name is Violet, and I shall call you Violet.”  
  
“Come on, didn’t you have a nickname once? No one called you Dray or Co or something?”  
  
He snorted, remembering the one time a younger year tried that. “Not if they wanted to keep their fingernails attached.”  
  
As they walked through the front doors, Draco smirked when he heard a faint ‘ew’ from Violet.   
  
His first impression of the inside of the Council was that it was impressive. The structure and architecture was still present, but it was obviously modernized. There were no tall portraits of moving ancestors or busts of distant families. There were mirrors everywhere along with crosses. Almost every window was free of drapes and sunlight poured into the halls. This was a place that would be susceptible to many vampire and demon attacks, so Draco supposed these things were necessary.  
  
“Okay,” Violet began, snapping Draco out of his reverie, “I’ll tell you a bit about the layout. The building is divided into a front half and a back half, with the slayers in the front and the watchers in the back. The dorms are on the right side of the building and the fully decked training center is on the left. All of the business meetings and the heart of the Council is in the back, and back corners hold the guest quarters and other empty rooms.”  
  
She talked as they walked, Draco taking in the rooms they passed. There weren’t that many slayers or watchers out in the hallways. Draco questioned her about it when she paused.   
  
“Well, it’s a school, too, so most of the slayers are in class.”  
  
“And why aren’t you in class?” he asked coolly, finally looking over at her. She just shrugged.   
  
“I’m a senior slayer. I was there when we were just potentials. There’s not much class work for someone who’s helped develop the school books.”  
  
They continued on, with Violet explaining how most of the senior slayers took on a junior slayer, a younger girl in her teens, and acted as a mentor. For now, the system was working because they just started the Council and started finding the new slayers. Draco was already going over the different papers he’d have to start just for all the new slayers already established at the Council. This was going to be a long, meticulous job.   
  
“And these are your rooms,” Violet said, stopping at large double doors.   
  
Draco opened them with trepidation, but his eyebrows went up at the sight of the rooms. The sitting area was fairly spacious. There was a large fireplace he could hook up to the Floo network and he had a nice balcony that he could take his morning tea on. The bedroom wasn’t as big the one he was used to, but the bed was acceptable. The bathroom was no Hogwarts prefect bath, but it still had many nice amenities.   
  
“Is it to your liking?” Draco heard Violet ask, obviously amused. He nodded.  
  
“I’ve had better, but it’ll do.”  
  
She rolled her eyes and then turn to leave. “I’ll come get you for dinner. It’ll be at seven!”  
  
When the doors clicked closed, Draco threw the strongest Locking Charm he could at it and fell into one of the chairs facing the fireplace. What the hell was he getting himself into?  
  
………………………….  
  
He’d been arranging things to his liking, and was adamant that Blaise was going to have to do without a house-elf because Draco desperately needed his. A headache was already starting to form at his temples. It took him forever to feel comfortable enough in a new place and he was already on edge. Despite being located in the guest quarters, he was close to the Watcher’s offices, which meant he heard screaming, laughing, giggling teenage girls run by hourly. An investment in strong Silencing Charms was desperately needed.  
  
A bit after seven, there was a knock on his door. Draco stood, brushing off his pants to smooth the wrinkles and walked over to open the door. Violet was there, but she had another young woman with her. The other woman looked to be the exact opposite of Violet, with ratty overalls and an expression that promised pain to whoever rubbed her the wrong way. When she saw Draco, her glare intensified.  
  
Violet saw where the woman was looking and grinned at him. “Dinner time!”  
  
“Must you always be so damn cheerful all the time?” he groused, closing the doors to his rooms and locking them tightly, although having his back to the new woman made the hairs on his arms rise up. He didn’t like her at all.  
  
“Well someone’s got to make up for you lack of happiness.”  
  
“If he wants to be all surly, let him, Vi.”  
  
“Ah, she speaks,” Draco said, ignoring the surly comment. “For a moment I thought you were just the caveman help.” Although he was staring straight ahead, he saw Violet put a hand on the woman’s arm to hold her back. He smirked. “Touch a raw nerve?”  
  
There was some shuffling as the group continued down the corridor, but Violet straightened the situation. “This is Rona, one of the senior slayers. We were hanging out until her junior slayer got done with her homework and came to eat.”  
  
Draco looked at this Rona person and scrutinized her. “You let her mentor a young, impressionable mind? Remind me to switch sides when we get back from dinner.”  
  
He had to give her credit; she didn’t back down. “Yeah, I heard you’re really good at doing that when it looks like things are getting difficult. I would love to just kick your prissy face in.”  
  
Even though he’d started walking again, he stopped with a smirk. He hadn’t had a chance to verbally maul anyone lately. He hoped he wasn’t rusty. “Would you like to know what else I’m good at?” Draco looked over his shoulder at her. “Ripping out the tendons of the heel and ankle with a single thought. Kicking me in the face would be hard if you can’t stand.”   
  
He saw Violet hold Rona back. “Vi, let me go. I’m going to show him how hard slayers hit.”   
  
Draco turned to face them fully and let his wand fall into his hand. “This should be interesting. Let me see how quickly you slayers can heal. The question is how--do I flay you from the inside or start taking bits off?”  
  
Violet physically restrained Rona as the irate woman tried to come near him. Draco let his wand dangle in his fingers but kept a firm grip on it, smirking at the scuffle.   
  
“Let me go, Vi, I’m going to kick his pale ass!”  
  
Draco snorted. “How delightfully childish. Shall I pull on one of your charming rat tail braids to see if you squeal?”  
  
Before either of them could make another move, there was a shout behind Draco.   
  
“Hey!” He spun around, eyebrow raised at the newcomer. When he heard a faint “ _oh hell_ ” come from Violet’s mouth and a few racier words come from Rona, he knew this wouldn’t be good. “What the hell are you guys doing? Some example you are for the baby slayers!”  
  
Instantly, Draco didn’t like this new girl. She exuded the wrong mix of confidence and bitchiness. She reminded him of the first year Slytherin girls who had yet to perfect the ice queen attitude. He felt a sudden pang of sadness, wishing Pansy were here to set the girl straight.   
  
He was pulled from his thoughts as the woman came closer. She stopped when she came to the group and put her hands on her hips, glaring at Rona and Vi. “Why were you two fighting? We’re waiting for you at dinner. Now let’s move!”  
  
Draco was rather amused when both Violet and Rona stood their ground and didn’t move a muscle.   
  
“You know, you’re not Buffy’s second in command anymore. You can’t boss us around. We’re equal, Kennedy,” Violet said, and Draco had to stomp down the wicked grin threatening to come forth.   
  
He’d done his homework, and knew who the infamous Kennedy was. While she looked appealing on paper, Draco knew she was nothing but a spoiled, immature little girl who wanted her fifteen minutes of fame to expand beyond minutes. He used to be just like her and was going to enjoy putting her down a few pegs.   
  
Violet had been very calm when she’d responded to Kennedy, her tone not argumentative. She clearly just wanted the situation diffused quickly and quietly. He got the feeling she was shoved into the mediator role too many times, and decided to give her a break when the time was right.  
  
“Evidently not, Vi. None of the other slayers have to be escorted to dinner, unless you count the baby ones who just got here.” Kennedy shook her head, the sadness a clearly fake emotion to Draco. “I’m going to have to tell Giles you two were fighting. You know the rules.”  
  
It was like he wasn’t even there, and Draco relished in their obliviousness. He could watch and observe all he wanted, and right now he knew Violet was trying her hardest not to get upset at Kennedy’s accusations and Rona was, once again, trying not to kill her fellow slayer.   
  
“You lost your chance to avoid getting your ass kicked when Willow dumped you. I’m not holding back.”  
  
Despite all her protests about fighting between Slayers, Kennedy was obviously aching for a fight and was fully prepared to launch at Rona, but Draco inadvertently stopped it when he let out a loud laugh. Kennedy’s eyes cleared and she looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time.   
  
“Who the hell are you and what’s so funny?”  
  
Draco kept an easy grin on his face, not revealing the real reason he had laughed. The image of Rona tossing Kennedy about had been amusing. “I just found the information that you dated Miss Rosenberg humorous.”  
  
Kennedy crossed her arms, defensive. “Why? Shocked she dated girls?”  
  
“Oh no, that I knew,” he replied. “I just completely overestimated her standards in partner choice.”  
  
Violet coughed to hide her laugh, which she did poorly, and Kennedy glared fiercely at her before turning back to Draco. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”  
  
“Well I’m not in the habit of letting complete strangers know who I am, Miss Iyari. It’s bad for my health.”  
  
He could see Kennedy was getting irritated. If she was a cat, her back would be arched and she would be hissing. Draco never liked cats. He started to straighten the side of his robes, showing his boredom.  
  
“Tell me who you are right now or I will drop kick you out of here head first.”  
  
“What is with you slayers and your infatuation with kicking? Do you all have feet fetishes or something?” Draco asked, puzzled at the lack of originality when it came to threatening.  
  
Kennedy took a step closer, but Draco still had his wand in his hand. “Listen you stuffy British bastard, I could break you in half and scatter the lawn with your remains which is exactly what I’m going to do if you don’t tell me what I want to know right now.”  
  
“Did you know that you lack originality and imagination when it comes to threatening people? It’s rather sad and pathetic.”  
  
She snorted and poked him in the chest, something that Draco hated, and he had to make sure he didn’t hex the slayer so hard her teeth shattered in her mouth. “Let’s see you do better, then.”  
  
The grin that had been plastered on his face instantly disappeared and was replaced the look Blaise liked to call his _don’t fuck with me, I’m a Malfoy_ look. Draco raised his wand and leveled it at Kennedy’s chest, pushing her back until she was taking steps away from him. She saw the change in his demeanor and he hoped she realized just how badly she had fucked up.  
  
“Touch me again and not only will I shatter every bone in your body and boil your blood so your skin falls off, I’ll throw you in a hell where your only company will be screaming masses of murderers and demons that suck out your soul, leaving you a hollow shell of nothingness.”  
  
He’d backed her against a wall, and Kennedy was looking up at him with wide eyes. “That’s quite a threat.”  
  
“It’s a promise, Kennedy, one that I will fulfill and most definitely not lose sleep over.” He put his wand away, sufficient in knowing she wasn’t about to lay a single finger on him again.   
  
“Well it’s quite an imagination you have, then.”  
  
Draco just stared at her long and hard as she composed herself. “It’s completely real. What I can do to you, and where I’d put you when I’m done.”  
  
Kennedy was trying to form words and her shock brought a small satisfaction. It was nice to be able to threaten someone and have them take him seriously, not like his words were coming from a man who tried the other side and lost. The change was refreshing, and Draco believed he found his coping mechanism.  
  
With a happier attitude, Draco turned to Violet and Rona. “Shall we continue on to dinner?”  
  
Violet grabbed her stomach and made a face. “I’m not really sure if I can eat after that.”  
  
Draco snorted. She was such a Hufflepuff. Rona took charge and led him down the corridor, Violet following behind her. He wasn’t sure, but he thought after his exchange with Kennedy, Rona was a bit more forgiving towards him.   
  
“How dare you talk to me like that?!”  
  
Now it had ceased to be amusing and Draco rolled his eyes. Without breaking his stride, he passed Violet and Rona, prompting them to follow. He did leave Kennedy with a parting gift of wisdom.  
  
“Lose the ice bitch attitude, darling. I’m so much better at it than you.”  
  
Rona and Violet were at his sides, and from his peripheral vision, he saw Rona grin, noticeably pleased.   
  
“You’re going to regret doing that. Despite what we say, she does have a bit of pull around here.”  
  
Draco waved off Violet’s concerns. “It’s about time she gets knocked down a peg or two. Humility is good for a person.” Both Rona and Vi looked at him slowly with identically incredulous expressions. He shrugged. “Or so I’m told.”  
  
………………..  
  
Dinner was actually a nice meal with less witty conversation and more ocular fire than he cared for, but the food was nicely done. Kennedy was berated for being late, especially when they had a new member at the Council, and he saw the amused glances shared between Violet and Rona.   
  
After dinner, the younger slayers were sent off to their rooms to complete schoolwork or tidy their rooms and some of the older slayers went to patrol, as per their schedule. The rest of the group, including Rona, Violet, and Kennedy, stayed, although the latter made an excuse to leave quickly.  
  
“Is she okay?” Willow asked, staring after her ex-girlfriend with a forlorn expression.  
  
“Willow,” Buffy said slowly, “we talked about this. You’ve got to let her go.”  
  
“I know, but I just hate the thought that I hurt her.”  
  
“Oh, it wasn’t you,” Rona said finishing off her dessert, ignoring the glare Draco sent her way. “She got a bit of a reality check on the way to dinner.”  
  
Buffy leaned forward to narrow her eyes at Rona, who was seated further down the table. “Were you fighting again?”  
  
Rona shook her head. “Nope. She just threatened the Ministry guy here, and he set her straight.”  
  
Draco nearly choked on the white wine he’d been provided, and that would have been a terrible waste of a truly exquisite vintage. As it was, Violet came to his defense. “It’s not at all how it sounds. She really was being unfair towards us, and she even threatened Draco, saying she would physically remove him from the grounds. She was rude.”  
  
He snorted. “She physically provoked me and threatened to drop kick me out of the Council if I didn’t tell her who I was when she just could have asked politely.”  
  
Buffy sighed. “Sorry about that. When we were dealing with the First, she sort of took control of the Potentials, something I should have stopped. She doesn’t like the fact that she’s not the leader anymore.”  
  
Draco let it slide. It had provided amusement, and it no doubt would do so in the future. He needed a few laughs every once in a while.   
  
One of the junior slayers came back into the dining room but he couldn’t place her. Her name started with a J, that much he did remember. She’d been introduced at dinner as Violet’s junior slayer, and they both smiled and waved at each other when she walked by.   
  
“Yes, Julienne?” Mr. Giles asked when the girl came near. Yes, that was her name. Julienne, but everyone called her Jules, a nickname that Draco abhorred and would never use. He didn’t understand why all the Americans with perfectly good names created ridiculous nicknames and the ones who desperately needed a sensible name didn’t want one.  
  
“There’s a woman here who says she was sent from the Ministry. She says she was requested.”  
  
Mr. Giles looked at Draco. “Were you aware of this?”  
  
He nodded. “I severely underestimated the amount of work it would take to simply stabilize the situation you currently have. There are many other consultants and even a few barristers who are more than capable of helping,” Draco said and then furrowed his brow. “Although I’m not sure how many would actually agree to be sent here, even part of the time. It’s a bit of a surprise that one was sent so quickly. I just sent the owl a few hours ago.”  
  
Mr. Giles turned back to Julienne. “Very well. We can meet her in the foyer.”  
  
“Oh, there’s no need,” a voice said from the dining room entrance. “I didn’t know I was interrupting dinner.”  
  
Draco’s eyes widened, his head slowly turning to the entrance to the dining room. The voice was familiar, and a walk down memory lane was not what he had envisioned when he’d sent for another Ministry worker who could help. He nodded when he saw for himself exactly who walked through the door. “Right. Fuck this, I quit.”  
  
Everyone looked at him in shock, but Hermione Granger just crossed her arms and grinned. “Hello to you too, Draco.”   
  
“Wait, you two know each other?” Buffy asked, looking between the two people in a staring contest.   
  
“Intimately,” Granger responded, her grin widening when Draco choked and had to either cough or spit out the drink he’d taken, which he suddenly desperately needed.  
  
Willow’s eyes widened. “Did you two date?”  
  
Draco had to laugh. It was either that or cry hysterically. “Not if she were the last female on the planet.”  
  
“Then how?” Dawn asked, looking between the newest member of the Council and Draco.  
  
“My fist is intimately acquainted with his face. It has a standing invitation whenever Draco opens his mouth.”  
  
He could see everyone now re-sizing him in their heads, and he was ever so glad Kennedy had already left. His evil image was shattering; he could practically hear the glass cracking.  
  
“You punched him?” Buffy asked, her smile a bit too cheerful for his liking.  
  
“We were thirteen!” Draco protested.  
  
Granger just chuckled and walked further into the room. “He was being a bastard.”  
  
“I’m a _Malfoy_ ; it’s in my bloody genetics to be a bastard!” Draco said, standing up fully. “Did Potter send you to make sure I don’t behead someone in their sleep?”  
  
“No one sent me!” Granger said, honestly looking affronted that he’d suggest such a thing. “I was asked if I was interested because no one else was available, and I was happy to volunteer.”  
  
“Oh, bullshit,” Draco said with a scoff. “You just jumped at the chance to make sure the ex-Death Eater isn’t stirring trouble.”  
  
He knew she was getting irritated when her hands went to her hips and even though he couldn’t see her feet, Draco could hear the tapping of her shoes on the floor.   
  
“I was asked to volunteer for this job because it will expand my knowledgeable horizons both in the magical laws pertaining to ‘in the know’ Muggles and magical creatures. I know more about Muggle laws than you, and even though we’re dealing with mostly magical situations, my understanding can’t hurt anything. Together, we can pool our expertise and come up with variable solutions to problems that might coexist in such a complicated situation as this in an efficient and affable manner.”  
  
Everyone was staring at Granger as she glared at him. Her reasoning made sense but there was no way in hell he was admitting that to her.   
  
Xander raised his hand. “Did anyone understand that?”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell. She said that she knows about point A, I know about point B, and if something happens, we can get to point C without killing someone, which I doubt but am willing to go along with right now.”  
  
“If someone of us can control our childish impulses,” Granger said, giving him a significant glance, “then I believe this can be the most beneficial relationship between the Council and the Ministry.”  
  
Willow looked over at Draco. “Does she know about the pixies too?”  
  
He could do nothing but look up at the ceiling and pray for someone to pop out of the walls and Avada Kedavra him right on the spot, because that had to be better than anything that was coming.  
  
“Pixies?” Granger asked, clearly confused. “There are pixies here? Don’t tell me there’s a doxie infestation.”  
  
“No,” Draco replied with a long sigh. “They wanted to test my knowledge so I was asked about the pixie laws after sixteen hundred.”  
  
“Oh,” she said with a nod. “A much harder question would have been to ask about the pixies before the twelve hundreds because of the translation problems, but the sheer amount of species discovery in the Ixie race alone is enough to keep anyone talking for hours.”  
  
Draco turned to Willow and gestured to Granger. “Does that answer your question?”  
  
“You people must really like your pixies,” Buffy muttered, shaking her head.  
  
Granger just shook her head and turned to Mr. Giles. “I have been remiss in my introductions. My name is Hermione Granger. I work at the Ministry of Magic as a supervisor in Muggle Relations. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for the opportunity.”  
  
She walked over to shake Mr. Giles’ hand with a smile on her face. Of course she wouldn’t get slammed into a wall. That right was apparently reserved for him only.   
  
“Rupert Giles, the Head Watcher at the Council. It is very nice to meet you, Miss Granger.”  
  
“Oh, please, call me Hermione.”  
  
Mr. Giles smiled and nodded. “Rupert.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, how delightfully disgusting.”  
  
Granger shot him a cool look. “Civility would not be remiss, Draco.”  
  
“Who the hell said you could call me Draco?” he asked, irritated that she had taken that liberty. Very few people got to call him Draco, and she sure as hell wasn’t one of them. He was still angry that she had gotten the job when he much would have preferred someone who would do the dirty work for Draco instead of giving him more like Granger was bound to do.  
  
“It is your name, isn’t it?”  
  
“And you suddenly go from hating me to being on a first name basis?” he asked, wondering if the craziness was catching.   
  
“Civility, Draco. We’ll be working together for a long time,” Granger reasoned. “I believe my rooms are next to yours in fact.”  
  
He let out a loud laugh. “Like I said earlier, fuck this. I quit.”  
  
While everyone else at the table was both amazed and amused by their antics, panic started to show when he announced he was departing. Granger, ever the more knowledgeable, just shook her head. “Robards wouldn’t let you leave, you know, although you’ve destroyed Ron’s chances of a few extra galleons by staying alive this long. The pool at the Ministry has gotten quite large.”  
  
“Well, I’m so sorry I ruined Weasley’s day,” Draco said sarcastically. “I don’t give a damn if Robards throws a pissy fit, either.”  
  
“Would you stop swearing?” Granger said, her facial expression becoming pinched. “You’re in the presence of ladies and younger adults. You need to have a positive influence, or as much of a positive influence as you can have.”   
  
“I can’t work with you! Your Gryffindor intentions are liable to rub off on me and then I might as well off myself and end the pool for good!”  
  
Granger sighed, crossing her arms again. “I’d forgotten how dramatic you can be. It was amusing in school, but I don’t know how the other Slytherins put up with you.”  
  
“Not all of us can be a Golden Trio of friends.”  
  
“I’m the best you’ve got, Draco,” she said, ignoring his attempts at insults at her friendship with Potter and Weasley. “Who would come? Corner, who is more interested in chasing skirt than doing his job? Or how about Savage who is better off to society sitting in the corner and drooling?”  
  
“I would rather have them!” Draco snapped. “I could hex Corner repeatedly for thinking with his prick and keep Savage around for hedonistic amusement.”  
  
Granger rolled her eyes. “Tough luck. You’re stuck with me, so get over yourself. I can be perfectly pleasant when not provoked.”  
  
Buffy looked between the two of them. “Why do I get the feeling that he’s SOL?”  
  
“Because he is,” Granger replied. “Now, shall we reconvene tomorrow for a debriefing, Draco? I imagine you want to Floo your friends and seethe about what an injustice this situation is and the inconvenience this has brought upon you.”  
  
Draco didn’t want to think of how well she had him pegged, but sneered at her instead. “Fine. You and I, at nine, tomorrow morning, in the library.”  
  
“With a candlestick,” Buffy said, her eyes widening when everyone looked at her strangely. “And I said that out loud, didn’t I?”  
  
He just shook his head and started to leave the dining room. “If I manage to make it out of here with my sanity intact, it’ll be a miracle.”  
  
…………………..  
  
When they broke for lunch the next day, Draco was grudgingly admitting in his head, because there was no way in hell he’d say it out loud, that Granger knew what she was doing. They’d gone over the surface of what was needed for the Council to remain in England as an active training center for just over four hours, both of them arriving at the library at eight instead of nine in a chance to get a jump on each other. While Granger claimed she always got up early and wanted to examine the library, Draco knew she what she was really up to. He didn’t trust Gryffindors.  
  
Granger had excused herself a half hour ago and headed to the dining room where an informal lunch would be served, but he wasn’t that hungry. He wanted to look at a few more parchments before he rested his eyes, but the words were starting to blur already.  
  
Draco leaned back in his chair, tipping it to two legs. As he did, he rubbed his hands over his face. This was going to be a long, arduous procedure filled with the most minuscule legality process that bored even him.   
  
“Hi Draco!”  
  
He flailed for a moment but managed to tip his weight forward so he didn’t rock backwards, crashing into the marble floor. When his heart stopped pounding out of his ribcage, he glared at Violet, who stood over him grinning. Her junior slayer Julienne was standing behind her, peering around Violet.   
  
“Thank you for nearly giving me a heart attack. I’ve always wanted to die young,” he said sarcastically.   
  
“No problem.” Violet sat down at the table and leafed through the open books. “How’s it going? Things moving right along?”  
  
“You’ll die of old age before I finish,” he replied dryly, shoving his parchments away from him. He then looked between her and Julienne, who flushed under the scrutiny. “What are you two doing here? Doesn’t she have school?”  
  
Julienne’s flush deepened in anger. “ _She_ is standing right here, you know.”   
  
Draco just raised his eyebrow and looked to Violet, who grinned. “It’s Friday. Fridays are always half days. Sometimes we have seminars in the afternoons as a group and sometimes we just have down time. Unless there’s an apocalypse. Then we party on Saturday.”  
  
He was saved from commenting when Granger walked back in carrying a small plate covered with a napkin. She set it down in front of him and he used his wand to carefully lift one edge of the napkin to see underneath. Granger rolled her eyes and took her previous seat.   
  
“I’m Hermione Granger. I met Julienne last night, but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you,” she said to Violet.   
  
Draco looked up at his old schoolmate with a cautious look on his face. “What’s in this?”  
  
The slayer smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Vi, Jules’ senior slayer sister. She’s my little shadow. We were just coming to bug Draco and see how his first day as liaison was going.”  
  
“Oh, splendid,” Granger said with a small smile.  
  
“What kind of sandwich is this? Wait, is that tomato?” Draco asked, trying to get a closer look while the lunch was still under the napkin.  
  
“While it’s going to be hard, we have the building blocks in place. Once we get the structure set, it’ll be the simple task of having each slayer fill out minimal paperwork to ensure they are protected from the Ministry’s laws against Muggles when it comes to knowing about our world.”  
  
Violet nodded and Julienne finally sat down between the two women. “Yeah, Willow mentioned that there was a thin line because while she’s technically a Muggle by your standards, she’s a very powerful witch.”  
  
Draco glared between them, hating that they both seemed to become instant friends. “This is a tomato and cheese sandwich on my favorite type of bread.”  
  
“I know, and I was completely amazed when she gave me details last night!” Granger continued, ignoring Draco. “The magnitude of Willow’s power is almost inconceivable but it’s on a completely different scale than that of a wanded witch or wizard. While we have wands to stabilize us and say just a few short words, she has to use longer chants to get the same effects. The theory is rather intricate.”  
  
Draco was looking under the napkin again, still held up by his wand. “And that’s fresh parmesan reggiano cheese with parsley in it.”  
  
He looked up and Violet was explaining in detail the feeling she felt when Willow activated the slayers with Julienne pitching in from time to time. This was much more important though.   
  
“Oi!” he said loudly, rapping on the table with a thin book. Granger looked over at him, clearly perturbed at her conversation being interrupted.   
  
“What is it, Draco? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of an important conversation?”   
  
“This is much more important,” he said, waving her off and ignoring that she still had not called him by his last name, which is what he’d requested of her. She looked at him expectantly. “How did you know what my favorite sandwich is? No one likes this type of sandwich.”  
  
She rolled her eyes and turned back to Violet. “ _Anyway_ ,” she began and Draco huffed. He’d never done well if he was ignored—not when he was a child and certainly not now. To get her attention, he picked up a large book and held it up, opening it so the book was completely open and the spine was facing the ceiling. Draco dropped it to the floor, the loud thud resonating in the large library.   
  
All three of the females jumped, but when Granger saw what happened to her precious book, her eyes widened comically. Draco barely resisted the urge to snicker.   
  
“What on earth are you doing, Malfoy?”  
  
He inwardly cheered that she’d finally dropped the cordial act, but settled his facial expression to project boredom with a hint of irritation. “I asked you a question, Granger. The polite, _civil_ thing to do is answer it. Or are you above such a task when it is not you asking the questions?”  
  
She glared fiercely at him as she floated the book back onto the table, running her hands softly over the injured spine. “I know your sandwich because when you actually ate in sixth year, that’s all you ever consumed.”  
  
Draco leaned his chair on the hind legs as he slowly grinned. “Were you stalking me in school, Granger?”  
  
His smile wavered at the droll look she sent him. “No, Harry did.”  
  
The chair legs slammed down on the floor loudly. Draco looked at her in horror. “He did what?” He stood up so quickly the chair toppled over, but he didn’t care because all he was focused on was the fact that his school arch-nemesis was a stalker that was probably responsible for his missing socks in fifth year. A fully body shudder overtook him. “Potter stalked me?”  
  
Since her wand was still out from floating the book off the ground, she used it to right his chair. “He was trying to discover what you were doing all of sixth year when you were always slinking about in the shadows. I had to listen to everything he observed about you that entire year, including your eating habits. Don’t look into it.”  
  
That thought deflated him and he sunk into his chair, removing the napkin and exposing the sandwich. Draco wasn’t sure which thought depressed him more—the remembrance of his horrid sixth year or the fact that Potter romantically stalking him was a better option and one that he preferred.   
  
Then he snapped out of it and resisted the urge to rush to the bathroom and empty his stomach. When he looked up, Violet was looking at him in concern. “Are you okay?”  
  
Granger just smirked. “Not such a bad thought in comparison, is it?”  
  
Oh, he was going to have nightmares. “Shut up.”


	2. Chapter 2

Draco had been at the Council a month. It was longer than he thought he’d last, and according to the Ministry betting pool, it was a lot longer than anyone else thought he would last as well. Draco’s relationship with the slayers and other watchers was steadily increasing. He was on a first name basis with Mr. Giles, now known to him as Rupert, and they often finished off the nights Draco wasn’t spending slaving away in the library drinking a superb bottle of brandy and going over demonology texts.   
  
He’ was a little more used to the way most of the slayers from America butchered the English language. Violet was the worst, and took to calling him the deplorable name of Drake. The one time he tried to hex her for it, she dodged the hex easily and grinned at him, making his eye twitch. Julienne was an irritating thorn in his side. No matter how much he ignored her, she always seemed to pop up and ask the most irritating and inane questions. He sensed Violet was getting increasingly bored and Julienne just wanted friendship. Why they wanted to be around him was a mystery.  
  
Rona and Kennedy despised him, but on different levels. He and Rona could get along smashingly if Kennedy was in the vicinity, but at other times their run-ins were filled with sharp comments and insults. The banter was light, but with the undertone of knowing it could escalate into an all-out brawl between them if the moment was right.   
  
Willow steered clear of him, or tried to in the beginning. The problem was he had a lot of questions about the magic she used to awaken the essence of the Slayer in the potentials. Of course, Granger was a bitch and made him ask Willow, refusing to ask herself, and once they worked past the whole ‘almost mind-rape’ episode, they liked to compare different magical practices and traditions. Since he knew more about the pureblooded ways, he was often the one who was asked, although Willow and Granger were fast becoming best friends.  
  
The two head slayers, Buffy and Faith, were the ones he didn’t have much interaction with, but he was going to be forced to soon. Buffy was the oldest slayer with the most experience, but the Psychotic Brunette just terrified him. He was reduced to feeling like a piece of meat when she was around, and after he was dead sure she groped his arse once, something no one believed, he took to calling her the Psychotic Brunette to her face. She just laughed it off.  
  
Xander and Dawn were hardly ever at the Council. Xander often went off to collect new slayers with the help of a rotating shift of senior slayers and Dawn was attending University in London, though she often returned home on the weekends or for dinner on the nights when she didn’t have much homework. They were his first assignments when he arrived, getting their papers legalized and shuffled through both the Ministry and the Muggle customs. While they were all pleasant with each other, Xander still claimed he looked far too much like Spike, who Draco now knew was a vampire that perished in the final battle.   
  
Draco was used to them, but they weren’t entirely used to him.   
  
At first, it didn’t bother him. In school, the more radical purebloods were teased by the Muggleborns all the time about wearing robes that looked like dresses. He always liked the style and the cut of the robes. They were flattering and dramatic when the person wearing them learned how to properly stalk away with flair. At Hogwarts, he was surrounded by many students and teachers who preferred the traditional robe over the modern open cut of an over robe used to cover Muggle clothing, so the teasing hadn’t concerned him. It was easy to ignore.   
  
When dozens of giggling girls asked to borrow his dresses for tea parties, it got to him. They didn’t appreciate the art of a good exit from a witty conversation; they only saw extra fabric that billowed at the waist like a Muggle ball gown. Draco even caught Granger suppressing a smile when someone cracked a “dress” joke.   
  
The breaking point came from Rupert, of all people. They were going over a Watcher Diary in hopes of finding a reference to a magical incident. Draco’s temper flared and he stalked off to another table they piled with books to retrieve another one that wasn’t so irritatingly difficult to translate. When he returned, Rupert made the off-hand comment that he was ever so glad the girls got off his back about tweed now that Draco was flying around in his bat cape. He didn’t understand the reference, but when he asked Granger about it, her non-stop laughter told him it wasn’t a good thing. He did some of his own research, and vehemently protested about being compared to a fictional superhero who wore tights.  
  
So, Draco took a day off on the weekend to rectify his wardrobe. After many owls to Blaise that he was sure his best mate copied and showed to people to prove that Draco had gone off his rocker, he received the name of decent wizarding designers that also specialized in Muggle fashions. The trip was very enlightening, and at the end of the day, he had to admit that maybe some Muggle fashions, were surprisingly close to some wizarding fashions They also fit extremely well and Draco had to admit, he looked amazing in Muggle clothing.  
  
When Draco returned to the Council, he doubled the size of his already bursting wardrobe and went to dinner without a robe for the first time. He left off the outer jacket, but the silk vest and tie stayed on. The trousers were based on a looser wizarding trouser that went well with the shirt under the vest. To top it off, regardless of the fact that he was just going to dinner inside the council, he added the stylish fedora.   
  
After a well-timed entrance that bordered on fashionably late, Draco was convinced he made the right decision. He heard many forks clattering on plates and even Granger seemed a bit shocked at the transformation. As he sat down in between Granger and Dawn, Faith whistled at him.   
  
“Look who got all spiffy on us. Like the hat.”  
  
Draco just smirked at her and rolled up his sleeves, something he didn’t like to do because it displayed his Dark Mark, but he found this bunch was a bit more forgiving about past evils, as loath as he was to be called reformed.   
  
“Where did you get those clothes?” Violet asked, peering over the table to get a better look.   
  
Granger also took a closer glance. “These aren’t entirely Muggle. They have wizarding stitches and trims. There’s no place in London that specializes in the blending styles. Where did you go?”  
  
Trust Granger to know about fashion in London but not utilize her knowledge. Draco scoffed and started to prepare the string beans to his liking. “I popped over to Milan for an afternoon. Blaise told me about the designer.”  
  
Another fork clattered on a plate, and Draco looked up quickly to see Buffy’s jaw drop. “You just… popped over to Milan,” she blinked a bit, trying to form the words, “for an afternoon? To shop?”  
  
Draco didn’t understand her shock. “Is there a problem? Did you need something in Italy while I was there?” Buffy still couldn’t form words; she just kept staring at his clothes in shock. He leaned over to Dawn. “Did I do something wrong? Piss her off somehow?”  
  
Willow patted Buffy on the back. “It’s okay, Buffy. Breathe.”  
  
Dawn shook her head, grinning at her older sister. “Nah. I think it’s more along the lines of _oh my god, he went shopping in Italy, didn’t take me with him, look at the shiny new clothes_.”  
  
“Ah,” Draco said with a smirk, sitting upright again. So Miss Perfect Slayer had a shopping fetish and appreciated good clothing. He was going to have to exploit that to his advantage. “Well, it was either Milan or Paris. I wasn’t in the mood for Tokyo and Madrid is awfully hot this time of year.”  
  
When he heard a whimper from across the table, he had to take a bite of beef to make sure the smirk didn’t break his face.  
  
Granger elbowed him and he almost choked on his mouthful of food. When he glared at her, she just returned it. “Be nice.” He was sure his facial expression exuded the necessary _what the hell are you talking about, I’m a Malfoy, when am I ever nice_ look, because she just rolled her eyes.   
  
“Don’t worry Buffy. I’m sure Draco would most certainly be happy to take you shopping wherever you’d like to go.”  
  
Draco almost choked again and quickly swallowed, wincing. “No,” he rasped, sending ocular fire at Granger. “Draco would most certainly not be happy to.”  
  
She continued, ignoring Draco. “He’ll even pay.”  
  
Oh, he was so hexing her at the dinner table. Draco turned completely in his chair to stare at her. “What the hell are you going on about?”  
  
“After all,” she said, slicing up her meat with a small smile on her face, “he has the money. He has his own vaults, and if I’m not mistaken, access to his father’s vaults, too.”  
  
Draco was debating whether to hex her for the shopping comment or revealing how much money he had when he stopped suddenly, narrowing his eyes at her. She was devious, and cunning to boot. Of course he had access to his father’s vaults, and wouldn’t itbe a problem if he went shopping and just happened to give the wrong vault number to the stores?  
  
Granger continued eating merrily, the small grin on her face showing she knew exactly what was going through his mind. It was almost unnerving.  
  
“Your talents were wasted in Gryffindor,” he said, still not entirely pleased with the situation but happy that a bit of backhanded revenge was being plotted.   
  
“Not all of us can pull off the green.”  
  
Draco chuckled, turning back to the rest of the table, who were obviously confused and completely lost in the discussion. “How does Sunday afternoon sound? We’ll make a day trip out of it before classes on Monday.”  
  
He had to give them credit, because everyone was suspicious. “Why the sudden turnabout?” Willow asked, obviously trying to figure out what happened to change his mind. Before he could answer her, Granger beat him to it.  
  
“I just made him see reason is all.”  
  
Draco snorted. “Yes, because you’re just that good,” he responded sarcastically.  
  
Everyone at the table laughed, but he noticed no one denied it. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he was just happy there were no more jokes about his clothing.   
  
“Anyone got a feather? I want to call him Yankee Doodle.”  
  
Draco dropped his fork and groaned at Willow’s comment.   
  
“No seriously,” Violet said, looking between him and Granger. She had seen all the screaming matches they’d gotten into. He never agreed with Granger and she never agreed with him, regardless if they knew the other person was right about something. Violet was right to wonder what the hell had transpired. “You two never agree on anything.”  
  
Draco was content to let the decision remain in mystery, picking up his fork and resuming dinner, but Granger just couldn’t let it go. “I convinced him because I dropped the reminder that he didn’t have to pay for anything you buy.”  
  
“How does that work?” Buffy asked, clearly interested. It reminded him of the Wizarding comic he saw Granger looking at when a cartoonish character had a galleon for eyes instead of irises.   
  
“Simple. I’m listed on my father’s account at the bank and so I can have every purchase billed to him. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t buy them or not, he still has to pay.” Draco viciously stabbed a piece of asparagus and raked it off the fork with his teeth, only looking up when he realized he was being stared at. “What?”  
  
“You don’t like your father very much, do you?” Violet asked.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “We just don’t get along well.”  
  
“You tried to kill each other last time you were in the same room,” Granger said slowly.   
  
He continued to butcher the vegetables on his plate. “I would have too, if mother hadn’t called the Aurors. Damn woman. If we had known she was so worried about getting body parts out of the Persian, we would have gladly moved to another room.”  
  
Draco could tell that no one believed him. Dawn was the one to let out a bit of a false laugh. “You’re just joking though.”  
  
His eyebrow went up as he continued eating. “I had to have some fingers reattached after she found out we’d managed to get blood on it. She set fire to it, claiming it could never be fixed. My father and I ruined a set of perfectly good shoes.”  
  
The silence was thick at the table. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but how did that ruin shoes?” Rupert asked lightly, indeed looking a little worried at the turn of conversation.   
  
“We were standing on it at the time she set fire to it. I distinctly remember her grumbling about the fact that we moved off of it too quickly for her liking.”  
  
Despite the bad memory it brought up, Draco was rather glad the story was told. He liked shocking people, and most everyone had stayed away from their dinners. Unfortunately, that meant their mouths were not full so they could still ask questions.   
  
“Whose blood got on the rug?” He looked up in shock, like most of the people at the table, at Julienne’s question. She immediately got defensive. “What? It’s an honest question! Did he punch you or you punch him?”  
  
Before he could answer, Granger beat him to it. “Neither. He used spells, most likely. Wizards aren’t in the habit of physically abusing each other when they could save energy with spells.”  
  
He scoffed, not correcting her when she was wrong. Most wizards didn’t use their hands, but they sure as hell liked their props. His father was no different. The snake head on his cane didn’t have sharp fangs just to be pretty. One day he was going to be better at ducking when he saw the silver glint coming towards him.   
  
Because of his musings, he didn’t see Granger looking at him thoughtfully and slowly pulling out her wand on her other side. “ _Finite Incantatum_ ,” she whispered, prompting Draco to glare at her.   
  
“What the hell was that for?”  
  
She shrugged sheepishly. “I thought maybe I was wrong and you were wearing Glamour Charms to cover something up.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “If I _was_ wearing Glamour Charms, I wouldn’t have them so weak and so easily dismantled by a stray charm learned in first year.”  
  
Granger made a face and went back to dinner, as did everyone else. Rupert started to question Willow on a research topic, Dawn described courses to some of the slayers, and Buffy instantly began quizzing Draco on his clothes.   
  
Draco didn’t think he had a single conversation as long as the one he was having with Buffy. Now that they found similar shopping souls, the conversations were aiming toward clothing and fashions. The topic along with their enthusiasm was enough to make some of the slayers, Faith included, run from the table when dinner was officially over.   
  
He promised Violet he’d show her his Sumerian knife collection, so she was practically vibrating next to his chair in anticipation. Rona was also hanging back, but he suspected she just wanted to see if his knife collection was as impressive as he boasted. Granger just rolled her eyes and proclaimed shewould be in the library after he was done proving his manhood to the teenage girls. Draco didn’t have a chance to retort before she was gone. He was going to have to think of a particularly cutting insult next time they saw each other.   
  
Buffy, Willow, and Rupert were going to take a video conference call with someone named Robin from the States after dinner, but as they scattered from the table, Willow held back.   
  
“Draco?” she asked, and he turned around, waiting for her question. “Does Hermione know that you _do_ have Glamour Charms cast?”  
  
His response was to smirk at her. “Not all charms are held up by a spell.” Draco held up the hand that the Malfoy signet ring was on. The ring was designed to hold numerous spells on a continuous loop unconsciously, not only drawing magical energy from him, but magical items in the vicinity so it wouldn’t drain him. The irony of using it to cover up his father’s mistakes was not lost on him.  
  
They walked over and began looking at the ring. Buffy immediately grabbed his hand and pulled it closer, trying to look at the gems set around the sides.   
  
Rupert also tried to get a closer look. “I take it that is your family crest?”  
  
Draco nodded. “The family crest, colors, and stones all rolled into one nice little package. I received it when I was seventeen and considered a full adult by Wizarding World standards.”  
  
Willow hesitated, probably because she felt some of the darker magic engrained in the ring that could never be removed. There were no truly harmful spells being used through the ring, but there had in the past.   
  
Even after she scoped out the magic on the ring, he could see she was still very hesitant and wanted to ask a question, so Draco rolled his eyes. “What now?”  
  
“Is it bad?”  
  
He didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. It all came back to the charm.  
  
“This may come to you as a shock,” Draco replied dryly, “but I’m actually quite vain. It’s not as bad as it could have been. I just don’t like to advertise the fact that I wasn’t as quick as my father.”   
  
Violet came up on his side to peer at the ring, but also to get a closer look at his face. Her close examination was a bit unnerving. “We all have our scars you know.”  
  
“And in a world where you can grow back limbs and remove burned skin with a few drops of liquid, scars that can’t be removed are obvious. It means they were caused by a cursed object or someone who didn’t want you to heal. In my case, it was both. I have enough trouble with this scar as it is,” he replied, holding up his left arm and his Dark Mark.  
  
“I don’t suppose you’d let us see?” Buffy asked, looking up at him, but her eyes weren’t on his. She was looking all over his face, as if trying to imagine the type of scar that he hid.   
  
Draco pulled his hand away from hers before she could register that it was shaking and just smirked. His scar was something he carried with him as a reminder that as much as he loved his father, he would never be good enough. It was also a reminder that he once stood up to Lucius Malfoy and managed to walk away alive. He handled the scar in his own way, but others didn’t need to see it.  
  
“Don’t you have some sort of meeting to get to?”  
  
Willow and Rupert turned and started to leave the dining room so he turned as well, but Buffy grabbed his hand again, her expression akin to pity. He let out a sigh. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Summers. I’m a big boy, and the fight happened over a year ago.”  
  
“Oh it’s not that,” she replied with a grin. “I just wanted to make sure you still wanted to go shopping.”  
  
Draco pulled his hand hard out of her grasp and stalked away, everyone letting out small snorts of laughter behind him.   
  
…………………  
  
In the three months that he’d been at the Council, Draco’s opinion on his new job had gone from total hell to semi-hell with a few glimpses of normality. Most of the slayers, especially the younger ones, stayed away from him and he prided himself on his Snape impersonation for that small blessing. Unfortunately, there were always the exceptions to the rule. Violet, and by default, Julienne, still hung around. Occasionally, and he even went to watch them both in class as they learned to hone their fighting skills.  
  
Once Julienne got over her fear of asking him questions, she never managed to shut up. Violet also liked to ask him questions about his times at Hogwarts. The problem was she did so whenever Granger was around which meant the stories they told were vastly different. He thought the slayer did it just to see them snap at each other, which was occurring right now.   
  
Willow and Buffy walked in, the slayer grabbing the witch and pulling her down as a spell zoomed over their heads. Draco’s eyes widened comically when they both looked up at him with a sour look on their faces. “In my defense, you weren’t there when I said that spell.”  
  
“And what was that going to do exactly?”  
  
Granger just grinned. “Should I tell her it would have made all of her hair fall out?”  
  
He slowly turned to her and glared. “You just want to win the gambling pool. I’m not an idiot. Shut up.”  
  
She chuckled and Draco kept a firm grip on his wand as Buffy stalked closer. “I was going to lose my hair?”  
  
“Would you believe me if I said I could grow it back instantly?” he asked, wincing at the anger radiating off of her.   
  
“Not. The. Point.”  
  
Draco grimaced when she accented her words with a sharp poke to the center of his chest with her finger. “And what is the point?”   
  
“That you have visitors. One of the junior slayers just came from the front sitting room,” Willow said, gently pulling Buffy back. “He didn’t hurt your hair, Buffy. It’s okay.”  
  
The blonde crossed her arms after patting her head, making sure everything was right where she wanted it. “Still not the point,” she grumbled.  
  
“I have visitors?” Draco asked, his curiosity piqued. “I didn’t ask for any help from the Ministry.”  
  
Willow shrugged. “A man and a woman. Donatella was the one who spoke with them. She was really excited because she said the man could speak fluent Italian.”  
  
A wide grin spread across Draco’s face and Granger groaned, “Oh no.”  
  
Everyone was confused, but Draco quickly stood and started to head towards the front parlor. It had been forever since he visited with any of his friends. He exchanged owls, and he wasn’t exactly sure if it was fear on his or their parts when it came to visiting him. The job took up so much of his time he hardly got to escape, because there was always something happening with the slayers.   
  
There was a group of footsteps behind him and he rolled his eyes, knowing that slayers were the most curious group of women on the planet, but he didn’t rightly care. When they got to the parlor, there were already some other slayers, among them Rona and Kennedy, trying to inconspicuously hang around to see what was going on. Apparently, word that his friends had arrived spread quickly.   
  
As he opened the doors to the front parlor, Draco had to control the urge to grin like a little girl at the sight of his two best friends. Blaise was leaning against the fireplace, casually glancing across the room. Pansy had a glass of red wine in her hand and was lounged across one of the chaises looking like she was posing for a picture. His two friends always did know how to make an entrance.   
  
Blaise spotted him first and let out a deep chuckle. “Well, well, it looks like Mr. Malfoy has been converted.”  
  
Pansy turned around to look him over and smirked. “Pity you didn’t wear those a few years ago.”  
  
“And why is that?” he asked, coming closer to her. He heard whispers behind him as more slayers peered into the room.   
  
“We might still be married.” Draco outright grinned and took hold of her outstretched hand, pulling her up and into a short kiss. When he pulled back, he could see the glint of mischief in her eyes.  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
Draco honestly wasn’t sure who had shouted it the loudest, but there were many noisy inquiries. He ignored them and exchanged a hug with Blaise. When his friend’s hand started to wander down, Draco pulled away with a glare. “What are my rules?”  
  
Blaise rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Only when you’re drunk, high, or extremely pissed at your father. I remember.”  
  
“Good,” Draco said firmly. He did not need the rumor mill started, because the grapevine here was worse than at Hogwarts. He looked at both of them curiously. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see the both of you, but what are you doing here?”  
  
Before they could answer, Violet was standing right behind him looking at his friends with wide eyes. Draco resisted the urge to growl.   
  
“You were married?”  
  
“Yes, Violet, I was married.”  
  
“To both of them?”  
  
Draco turned to Julienne who had appeared on his other side. “No.”  
  
“You’re being rude and not introducing your exes.”  
  
He twisted back to glare at Violet again. “One ex. Singular. That singular ex would be Pansy Parkinson and this is my other friend Blaise Zabini. There. Happy?”  
  
“Why did you two break up?”  
  
Draco sent an incredulous look to Buffy, who shrugged unapologetically from her spot by Willow at the entrance of the room.   
  
Before he could answer, Pansy beat him to it. “My girlfriend at the time wasn’t that happy with the arrangement.”  
  
“It was an arranged marriage,” he said loudly over the whispers that broke out. “It took me a while before I found a loophole that allowed us to break it off legally without one of us getting offed by the other.  
  
Blaise snorted. “It so would have been you.”  
  
Draco didn’t even expend the energy to glare at him and instead looked expectantly at the group of slayers. “Well? Any more questions?”  
  
Kennedy stepped forward and Draco wanted to crawl into a hole, because he knew she was going to ask a very stupid question and Pansy would reduce her to ash. Then he’d get fired and quite possibly blamed for the whole ordeal and thrown into Azkaban.   
  
“Are you single?”  
  
He caught the way Willow jerked at the question, almost as if she’d been electrocuted. He knew Pansy caught it too by the way his friend was looking at the witch; she was sizing her up. Draco knew the whole story of their breakup. Willow thought Kennedy was too immature and decided she needed to date her own age, so she broke up with her, but she still held feelings for the slayer.   
  
“As a matter of fact, yes, but you couldn’t handle me, little girl.”  
  
Kennedy scoffed and crossed her arms. “What gives you that idea?”  
  
He wanted to grin. Draco didn’t think anyone could handle his Pansy besides himself and Blaise, but pity she didn’t like them enough to keep them around romantically.  
  
Then Draco’s brow furrowed and he looked back at Blaise. “What happened to Adrianna?”  
  
His friend grinned and shook his head. Draco was going to have to find out another way. Apparently there was a story involved, and by the look on Blaise’s face, it involved bloodshed.   
  
“Adrianna,” Pansy began, obviously overhearing him, “decided to expand her horizons to fresh out of Hogwarts Hufflepuffs when I was out of town.”  
  
Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Pansy patted his chest after taking another sip of wine. “Don’t worry, darling. I took care of it.”  
  
“Why does that sound extremely ominous?” Violet whispered to him.   
  
“Because it usually is, although I didn’t hear of any unusual deaths in the Daily Prophet. Don’t tell me you had all the fun without me.”  
  
Pansy shrugged. “It was a spur of the moment action, sad to say. She got off easy.”  
  
There was a rustle at the hallway entrance and Draco looked over just in time to see Granger sneak through to the front to stand beside Willow and Buffy. “She got off _easy_? She’s been put in the mentally insane ward at St. Mungo’s and will most likely be there for the rest of her life! You reduced her to a blubbering three year old! No one deserves to live like that!”  
  
“Is that you giving me permission to finish the job?” Pansy asked smoothly, finishing the wine as Granger spluttered in indignation. The dark haired witch put down the wine glass and smirked at Kennedy. “Still think you would like to try with me? Don’t worry, mostly of my exes don’t end up like Adrianna.”  
  
Blaise snickered. “That’s because they usually don’t end up living at all.”  
  
“Draco did,” Julienne retorted, blushing when Blaise looked at her. Draco sighed. He really was going to have to teach the girl not to be so embarrassed, although his man-whore of a friend tended to make even the most worldly of women flush.  
  
He tried to get them back on track. “You never answered my question. What exactly are the two of you doing here?”  
  
Pansy sighed. “A letter was delivered to your flat on accident. Blaise came to deliver it and I came just to see you. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken. Don’t make me kidnap you.”  
  
She was being serious about the kidnapping part, which he could tell, so Draco made a mental note to Floo more often and not rely on letters. Speaking of letters, he looked at Blaise when his friend pulled out a worn envelope from his jacket pocket. When he handed it to Draco, it made his blood run cold.   
  
“Is this a joke?” he asked softly.   
  
“Do you honestly think us cruel enough?” Blaise asked, knowing the answer was already no.   
  
Violet looked over his shoulder and made a face. “What is that in the wax?”  
  
“It’s the seal of Azkaban.”  
  
“What?” Granger gave up her safety from a distance and quickly moved to Draco’s side, looking at the letter seal. “You’re not allowed to have correspondence with anyone at Azkaban.”  
  
“Bugger off, Granger,” Pansy hissed, stepping dangerously close to other witch, her wand in plain view. Pansy tended to get very territorial about Draco and didn’t like when someone reminded him that he’d been an idiot as a teenager. One of his restrictions was that he could never receive or send any communication from Azkaban or known Death Eaters in general, his father excluded.  
  
“Pans,” he said soothingly, not wanting to deal with the fallout of a duel. “There’s an exception. I can receive correspondence from relatives.”  
  
Granger ceased her glaring match with Pansy to narrow her eyes at him. “You can’t honestly be thinking of reading any letter that murdering harpy sends you.”  
  
“I have to,” Draco said grudgingly. “I’m the last legal male heir to the Black family. I am bound by law to read any request from a Black relative, regardless of their status in the Wizarding World, including my aunt.”  
  
“She tried to kill you!” Granger snapped.   
  
“Is anybody else sensing a theme with this family?” Buffy said loudly, and Draco sighed.   
  
“It doesn’t matter. She’s my mother’s sister and I have to read this letter. I’ll burn it right after reading it, but I’ll read it all the same.”  
  
Granger crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I’ll never understand your pureblood loyalty. Don’t say a word!” she snapped, pointing at Blaise when he opened his mouth to no doubt make a derogatory comment about her blood heritage.   
  
“I don’t care if you understand it,” Draco replied loudly. “It’s something I’m bound to, and no amount of posturing from you is going to stop me.”  
  
“I don’t want to see you jeopardizing this program because you feel the need to establish a relationship with a woman who is responsible for murdering dozens of people for the fun of it!” Granger exclaimed.   
  
Violet and Julienne took a step back, used to the stance he and Granger had taken. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Willow and Buffy herd all the other slayers and watchers out into hallway and close the door, until only they were left. They both had the tendency to make everyone scatter when something about his or Granger’s personal life came up, citing that the younger slayers didn’t need to know details about them.   
  
“This does not pertain to my job, Granger. This is a personal matter that you are in no way privy to and have no business in.”  
  
“It’s my job to make sure you don’t screw this up!”  
  
“Ha!” he exclaimed, pointing at her. “I knew it! I knew you were sent here to watch me!”  
  
Granger sent him such an exasperated look, he knew she must have perfected using it on Potter and Weasley. “I told you I volunteered for this job! If you screw up, then that looks bad on me as well!”  
  
Pansy shook her head with a sigh as they continued to shout at each other. “It’s nice to know that one lone Gryffindor can still make him act like a child. It brings back memories of school, doesn’t it?”  
  
“He acted like this all through school?” Violet asked. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or not.”  
  
“Oh don’t. It was very entertaining, although he was the least reactive towards Granger. Get him around Potter or Weasley and there won’t be screaming matches, just broken bones.”  
  
Blaise yawned. “I miss that. All this shouting is boring.”  
  
Pansy looked at him doubtfully. “You miss playing nurse to Draco when he was injured and the facades he put on when he had barely a scratch? You masochist.”  
  
She was interrupted by saying anything more when a spell crashed into the wall, leaving a scorch mark. Draco had barely managed to duck in time and was left staring incredulously at Granger. He hadn’t even seen her take out her wand. Quickly patting his hair to make sure she hadn’t singed anything, he let out a sigh of relief that quickly became anger.   
  
“You bitch! What the hell was that for?!”  
  
“You know very well what that was for!” she screeched.  
  
“Oh, like I haven’t insulted you before!” he retorted, but was interrupted when a wand was pressed under his chin. He winced, having felt that wand threatening his body before. “Pans…”  
  
“Draco, shut up,” she said in a clipped tone. “I haven’t seen you in months and I refuse to have our encounter be ruined when you’re reduced to a slug.”  
  
Granger snorted at that, but Pansy whipped around to face her. “Don’t think I won’t hex you either. I was so dearly disappointed when Millicent got to duel you in second year, but it was worth it when she put you in a headlock. I wouldn’t have been so gentle.”  
  
Draco heard Blaise laugh, but since Pansy’s wand was still under his chin, he didn’t dare move. “Pans? Do you think you could remove your wand from my neck? Please?”  
  
When she did, he adjusted his jaw and rubbed at the skin where she’d poked him.   
  
“Wow. I bet your marriage was one hell of a trip,” Buffy said with a grin. “I wish I could shut him up that easily.”  
  
Draco snorted. “You do just fine by slamming me into walls, thank you very much, not that that was any sort of invitation to you or the psychotic brunette to do so in the future.”  
  
“But do be careful with him; he’s delicate,” Pansy said pinching his cheek. He pulled back and glared at her but resisted the urge to step back when she produced an envelope of her own. “Now, this is an invitation to tea. I ran into Narcissa the other day and she said she hadn’t heard from you since you took this job, so she’s forcing you to attend a tea with us and our mothers.”  
  
Draco groaned and threw himself onto one of the couches. Blaise kicked at his leg. “You know, if you bothered to owl your mother every once in a while, we wouldn’t be in this position. Now we both have to be around out mothers for hours while they discuss their damn social circles.”  
  
“If you’re lucky, and you probably won’t be, this tea will allow you to avoid a ball, and let’s just remember how fun those were, shall we?” Pansy said, grinning when both Blaise and Draco glared at her. “Well, we’ll let you get back to you duties, darling. Don’t make me steal you away in the night.”  
  
Draco stood up to give Pansy a kiss on the cheek. She disappeared into the Floo and Blaise did the same after giving him a hug. Once his friends left, the letter they delivered weighed heavily in his hand. He kept it clenched there through their whole visit, and now it was more wrinkled than before. Part of him wanted the ink to smudge so he never had to read it, but he knew the anti-smudge charms would prevent that.   
  
With a sigh, he turned to walk from the room, only to stop in surprise when he realized he still had company. “What?” he asked defensively.   
  
“So, you were married and never thought to tell us?” Buffy asked, with her eyebrow raised.   
  
“And you have a rather hot friend that you never told us about or brought around,” Violet said with a small grin.   
  
Draco snorted. “One, it was an arranged marriage, like I said. There was no getting around it for a while until I found a way out. Two, don’t even think about it,” he said, pointing at Violet. “I call him a man-whore for a reason. If it has two legs and can speak, he’ll shag it.”  
  
“You included?” Granger snapped, her expression still showing her anger at their argument and being threatened by Pansy. It made his day a little brighter.   
  
He smirked and opened the doors to the hallway, walking into the hall. “I don’t kiss and tell!”  
  
There were still plenty of girls milling out in the hall, and whispers broke out between them. Oh, the rumor mill would be going strong. His smirk fell when he was out of eyesight though. The seriousness of the situation made him sigh wearily. Draco had family matters to attend to.  
  
………………….  
  
His eyes strained in the dim light of the library. Granger long ago retired to bed. Draco didn’t blame her; he was half-asleep and fighting to stay awake. It had been weeks since he received the letter from his Aunt Bellatrix demanding an audience with him as the head of the household, and he’d hit a few kinks on the way to visiting her. It was law that anyone wanting to visit Azkaban must submit their name and reason for going to the Ministry. He wasn’t worried about it, considering he sent in all the correct paperwork like a good little worker, but the reply he received wasn’t the one he was expecting.   
  
Despite the fact that the Ministry, by law, couldn’t deny him the right to see his family members, they could deny him the right to visit her by himself. Draco knew that part of his life-long probation was that he could not step foot on Azkaban island, so it was perfectly acceptable that they wanted him to have an escort.   
  
The only problem was in their document wording, they’d neatly eliminated every person willing to go with him. He was not allowed to take family members, and that included his ex-wife, so Pansy was out. Blaise was already a person of interest in many dark artifact cases, so he was not permitted to go. Even Granger was dismissed, because any witch or wizard who ever worked with him in the past, was working with him now, or expressed interest in working with him in the future was also eliminated.  
  
So who the hell was supposed to go with him? He paused and let his mind wander out of the box. While Willow was technically a Muggle, she was also a witch of extraordinary power who had tried to the end the world. Draco didn’t think the Ministry would appreciate him trying to sneak her into Azkaban. Rupert had also practiced magic, so he was out. Then his mind went to Buffy.   
  
She was a Muggle who had never done a spell in his life, or so he thought. She certainly didn’t have an ounce of magic in her. Since she wasn’t a witch, it didn’t matter if she worked with him or not, because they hadn’t mentioned Muggles in the specifications.   
  
Draco smirked to himself. He always said that technicalities were a Slytherin’s best friend. It sure came back to bite the Ministry in the arse more than they liked, but that was why they had him to warn them so they could correct their mistakes.   
  
Now he was perusing through every book he could find to make sure there wasn’t some hidden law that said it was illegal for _her_ to go to Azkaban. He needed a special clause that would let her come with him, and so far he hadn’t found one. Draco knew he was getting close though. Granger was starting to get short with him because he wasn’t focusing all his attention on their task, and he was sure if he didn’t come up with something quick to deal with his wayward Aunt, Granger was going to try to hex him again.   
  
Draco squinted and leaned closer to the open book in front of him, trying to read the small print. Could it really be that simple? _There_.   
  
He grinned widely as he sat back, closing the thick book with a thud. Robards was really going to regret ever putting him on this case. It was resulting in more headaches for the Ministry than was probably worth.   
  
The grin abruptly dropped off his face. Now if he could just convince Buffy to go along with him. It would be easy. Wouldn’t it?  
  
…………………….  
  
The only way for this to work was for Buffy to willingly accept the jewelry in his hands and wear it at least until they returned from Azkaban. He didn’t think it would be difficult for her. After their shopping trip in Milan, Buffy had pretty much gotten over any ill-conceived ideas of him and they were always trying to one-up each other in fashion. Giving her a piece of jewelry wouldn’t be that hard.   
  
Except it wasn’t jewelry. It was made small, to be worn around the wrist, but it was a magical collar. Robards had insisted Draco slip paperwork through the Ministry to classify the oldest two slayers as magic creatures. Just his luck, magical creatures _could_ be brought to Azkaban according to some law dating four centuries ago when some old hag wanted to see her pet crup and the Minister at the time was dumber than Fudge.   
  
Now all he had to do was convince Buffy to take the pretty, sparkling bracelet, go with him to Azkaban, and he could put all of this behind him. He knew the slayer was in one of the common rooms used for socializing, but he was surprised to see Willow and Granger in there as well. He swore to himself. Things just got a bit more complicated.   
  
With all the suaveness he could muster, he walked up beside the chair Buffy was sitting in and perched on the armrest. “Hello, ladies.”  
  
Buffy looked up at him, clearly amused. “Hello yourself.”  
  
He rolled his eyes when Willow giggled. Granger was reading a book on another couch and didn’t seem to mind him at all.  
  
“I have a question for you. A favor,” he said with a smile as he looked down at Buffy. The previously quiet Granger snorted, but he ignored her, giving her a light glare before focusing his attention back on Buffy. “You’ll be paid for your services, I promise.”  
  
Buffy completely turned to face him with her eyebrow raised. “You might want to rephrase that statement.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes again and held up the collar doubling as a bracelet. The light glinted off of it and Buffy leaned in close.  
  
“Shiny. Where’d you get the bracelet from?”  
  
He didn’t get a chance to reply before Granger opened her mouth. She didn’t even look up from her book. “It’s not a bracelet.”  
  
Buffy frowned and looked down at the silver hoop hanging from Draco’s hands. “It sure as hell looks like a bracelet.”  
  
“It’s a bracelet,” Draco said through clenched teeth, hoping that Granger didn’t open her mouth and ruin this for him.   
  
“It’s _not_ a bracelet,” she said firmly. “It’s a collar.”  
  
Draco sighed and let his head fall back so he was staring at the ceiling. Nothing was ever going to go right. “Fuck my life.”  
  
“It’s a _what_?” Buffy asked loudly, coming out of her chair. Her hands were on her hips and Draco knew she’d start tapping her foot any minute. He’d been here long enough to know that these weren’t good signs.   
  
Granger calmly looked up and stared at him. “You’re taking her?”  
  
“There will be no taking!” she said, rather shrilly. “What the hell kind of kinky things do you get up to?” Draco winced as a headache formed.   
  
“Will you let me explain?” Draco snapped. Buffy’s glare was intense, but he’d had worse aimed towards him. “I need to see my Aunt in Azkaban. I don’t want to, but I have to. If I don’t, she can legally have a price put on my head and have professional hit wizards come after me. Such is the curse of sharing blood with a very old, very crazed and dark bloodline. I just need to see her, say I listened, and then leave and never go back.”  
  
“What’s the problem, then?” Willow asked curiously.  
  
He sighed, rubbing his temples. The piece of silver jewelry dangling from his fingers was a cold shock against his cheek. “The Ministry is putting up a fight and says I have to have an escort. They probably _want_ me to run for my life, so it’s no surprise, but I found a loophole. Magical creatures can be taken to Azkaban, and since you are a classified magical creature, you can come as my escort.”  
  
Buffy crossed her arms, clearly not impressed and double thinking his words. “And why am I a magical creature?”  
  
“You can’t be,” Granger said. “For you to be a magical creature, you must be registered with the Ministry. It takes months to file the paperwork.”  
  
He could see the wheel turning in her head and he never wanted an invisibility cloak so much as he did in that moment. She slowly turned to face Draco and for a moment he thought she was going to hex him outright.   
  
“You registered her as a magical creature?” she asked in a low voice.   
  
Draco glared at her. “I was ordered to and I didn’t tell you because I knew you would overreact.”  
  
“Who else?”  
  
“Just Buffy and Faith. Those are the only ones Robards required.”  
  
Granger let out a huff of disgust and started pacing the room. In his defense, he wasn’t too happy with the decision either. They were human, and there were far less human things in the Wizarding World that got by, but it was an order he couldn’t ignore. In the long run, it was more helpful than anything.   
  
“Look,” Draco said, staring at Buffy in what he hoped was a pleading manner, “I just need you to go with me, sign a paper, sit while I try to make sense of my aunt’s insane ramblings, and then we can leave.”  
  
Buffy and Draco stared at each other for a few moments before Willow stood and came to stand by Buffy, casting a concerned glance in Draco’s direction.   
  
“This is your aunt that taught you about controlling your mind, isn’t it? The one who thought it was a game to show you living nightmares when you were a teenager after she escaped prison?”  
  
Draco sighed. For outsiders, the intricacies of the pureblood customs were strange and sometimes needlessly cruel. Hell, sometime he thought that, but he may have been biased on account that it was his neck at the mercy of said pureblood customs. Sometimes his life sucked beyond measure.   
  
“But I have to do this. If I don’t, there’s the whole ‘she can have me killed’ issue on top of the fact that this is my mother’s sister, and my mother is scarier than any hit wizard out there,” Draco replied firmly. Seeing that the slayer wasn’t going to budge, he turned to his Slytherin side. “Fine. I’ll just ask Faith since she is also registered and will more than likely be happy to go with me. She mentioned she wanted to see Diagon Alley anyway.”  
  
Draco spun on his heel and headed toward the exit. He took two steps towards the door when Buffy called out, “Wait!” Draco allowed himself a small smirk of victory before dropping it as he turned around with his eyebrow raised. Buffy was fidgeting, clearly debating within herself. “Diagon Alley is the shopping place, right?”  
  
Ah, victory was sweet.   
  
……………………….  
  
Draco had forgotten how much he abhorred Azkaban. The boat ride over was abysmal, and he was thankful that Quidditch had provided him with a relatively strong stomach. If he could take the dives, spins, and corners going after a snitch on a broom up in the air, then he could handle the choppy waters going to the wizarding prison.  
  
Thankfully, it seemed like Buffy could handle it as well as he could. He supposed for the things she saw in her lifetime, she had a strong stomach, too.   
  
He was waiting for a portly old man to look over his paperwork. It was taking forever for him to read it. Draco sighed impatiently. Buffy looked over at him in amusement.   
  
“I’m going to have to call in a consultant,” the old man said with finality and Draco groaned.   
  
“I _am_ a consultant. I don’t have time to wait on anyone to decide they want to come,” Draco growled. “Bugger this, in your request, ask for Roger Davies. He’s the most sensible of the bunch and sometimes tolerates me. He’ll come when summoned.”  
  
The old Auror looked at him doubtfully, but Draco saw him write in the request for Davies to come. It was a good thing, too. Davies was a pureblood and knew some of the concepts that were difficult to grasp. He would understand the situation if Draco managed to present it right.   
  
While the Auror went through the appointed Floo to get the consultant, Draco turned to Buffy. He warned her to bring a jacket, and she did as he said, but she was still shivering. He stepped closer to her, consequently blocking her from the other two Aurors in the room.   
  
“How can you stand this place?” she asked quietly, looking around.   
  
“I can’t. I hate coming here. It reminds me of bad times.”  
  
Buffy looked up at him curiously, and he took a deep breath. “My father was imprisoned here for a year when I was in school. Mother made us come visit in the summer. It wasn’t so much of a prison as a studio flat fixed up for him, but it used to be worse. The guards here…”  
  
He trailed off. “They were like a type of demon that sucks out the happiness and the joyful memories a person has. In the end, they suck out the human soul until nothing is left.”  
  
Draco saw Buffy shiver violently. “I can almost feel it. It’s so cold.”  
  
He nodded but turned when the Floo flared to life. Out stepped the Auror followed by his co-worker, Roger Davies. The other man nodded at him. “I hear you’ve got yourself in and out of a spot rather well. If I know you, then there’s no reason for me to be here. You’ve found some gap in the logic of the laws to allow you here.”  
  
“Davies, you know me so well. I’m equally touched and horrified at the thought of you knowing so much about me,” he responded with a smirk that made the other man roll his eyes. They kept a tentative acquaintance that bordered on friendship towards each other at work since they all but fought it out over Quidditch in school.  
  
Davies walked over to the table with all of Draco’s papers. “Your Aunt, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, has requested a formal meeting with you as a ward of the house of Black, is that correct?” he began formally.   
  
“Yes,” Draco nodded.   
  
“Under your terms of probation as deemed by the Wizengamot, you are not allowed correspondence with anyone at Azkaban prison. Do you understand the terms in which you will have to meet with your aunt?”  
  
Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Davies was being so formal. Normally he was loose and could appreciate a joke or two, but it was strange being questioned like this. Usually, he was doing the asking. It was a bonus though since he knew what questions would be asked.   
  
“I do. I also understand that it is the Ministry’s wish that I have an escort at all times. The requirements are there in the original owl sent to me.”  
  
“Stop codding me, Malfoy,” Davies said with a roll of his eyes. That was the Davies Draco knew.   
  
“I’m serious!” Draco said with a laugh. “It’s all in the owl.”  
  
Davies’ brow furrowed. Apparently, he wasn’t told that bit, and Draco didn’t blame him for wondering why he was called.   
  
“Ridiculous,” the consultant muttered as he read over the stipulations. “And you actually found someone who could escort you?” he asked as he looked up. Draco gestured over to Buffy who waved stiffly.   
  
“Buffy Anne Summers. She’s already signed in.”  
  
Draco enjoyed the look of confusion on Davies’ face. “Relation?”  
  
“She works at the Council.”  
  
“Well then she can’t—”  
  
“As a Muggle.”  
  
Davies’ eyes widened. “Muggles aren’t allowed at Azkaban. They can’t even find it.”  
  
Draco just smirked. “You got the forms I submitted on the two magical creatures?” When Davies nodded, Buffy waved at him again, the silver collar turned bracelet glinting in the dim light.   
  
He shook his head, chuckling. “Damn, Malfoy, you think of everything.” Davies shuffled a few pieces of paperwork then signed off on the form saying Draco could go in.   
  
“It’s a gift.”  
  
Buffy snorted and he saw Davies grin out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t remark on it, because he was being led down a narrow corridor to a visiting room. He spent enough time in one to know there would only be a desk and two chairs inside. His mother always took the chair for visitors when they came to visit his father, and that was fine with him. They would lean over the desk and speak in hushed tones, Draco leaning against the wall trying not to think of the grime he was getting on his clothes.  
  
As he entered the room, Draco shook his head. He was no longer that naïve little boy and this wasn’t his father he was visiting. “You can take the chair,” he said. “I’m not planning on sitting down.”  
  
He pulled the chair away from the desk and put it against the wall that he stood against, keeping all the space he could between himself and the other chair they would be securing his Aunt to. Buffy gave him a strange look.  
  
“Why did you move it?”  
  
He didn’t move his gaze away from the door they would be bringing his aunt through. “Being that close to her is dangerous.” Draco looked down at her. “Remember, you can’t speak or act here. You need to keep up the pretense of magical creature or else we’ll both be in trouble.”  
  
Buffy nodded and he heard a high pitched scream through the walls. “She’s coming,” he whispered. Buffy shivered, but remained stoic as the door slammed open and two guards brought in his struggling aunt and secured her to the chair across the table. He knew the moment she spotted him because her struggling stopped, but her laughter grew louder.   
  
“Bitty baby Draco brought me a beautiful present,” she said, her crazed eyes straying to Buffy.  
  
The guards secured her to the chair, only pulling their wands after the physical restraints had been put in place and they moved out of arms’ reach. Once magical restraints were added, Draco nodded to them and they left the room.   
  
“Speak, Bellatrix. You have five minutes.”  
  
“Someone’s gotten bossy, bossy boots,” she said with a deranged smile, but Draco remained closed off.   
  
“I am not obligated to stay past five minutes, so tell me what it is you want and then I will leave and never come back here again.”  
  
Bellatrix pouted and slouched in her chair as much as she could. “Family obligations are no fun. You should have agreed to help me without them.”  
  
“Never,” Draco said promptly. “I’m here out of obligation to the Black family. Say your piece and be done with it.”  
  
“Look who grew a backbone,” Bellatrix said, steel lacing her voice. “Where was it when you had a duty to your family? You couldn’t kill that worthless Muggle-loving waste of a wizard! The traitor Snape had to save your hide, and you groveled like your father to get out of a true reward!”  
  
Buffy jumped when Bellatrix lunged, straining against her bindings, but Draco remained still. His arms were still crossed but his eyes never strayed from the squirming figure in the chair.   
  
“Bellatrix,” he began calmly, but his eyes narrowed when his aunt began to hum tunelessly, blocking him out. “Bellatrix!” Draco snapped.   
  
Her low chuckles were all that answered him, and Draco growled in frustration, stalking forward to slam his palm on the table. “Listen to me, Bellatrix, or I will leave and you will never speak your thoughts except to filthy stone! I can ban my mother from visiting you if I want, and I will do it. You’ll have no visitors, no company, and perhaps I can convince the guards to let in a Dementor or two.”  
  
His words had no affect on her. Bellatrix’s black eyes glistened in the dim lighting and she leaned forward, her head moving back and forth like a snake. “Get me out.”  
  
Her request shocked a laugh out of him, ruining his stoic façade. “You want me to secure your release from Azkaban? Even if I wanted to, it would be impossible. You’re lucky that Dementors really are gone or you would be kissed.”  
  
She pouted and stretched her hand across the table to settle onto his, but Draco quickly stepped back out of reach.   
  
“You won’t even consider it? Not even as a favor to your mother’s sister?”  
  
“Especially not to you, Bellatrix. As far as I’m concerned, you can rot here,” Draco replied, glancing back to Buffy. “We’re leaving. I’ve heard enough. She’s wasted enough of my time as it is.”  
  
Bellatrix’s cackling made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Oh, the time you will waste. I’ll see you soon. Maybe we can share a cell and then we’ll see how well those Occlumency walls held up.”  
  
Draco paused. That wasn’t insane ramblings. He had been around Bellatrix enough to know when she lost touch with reality for a moment and when she was lucid. “Why would I be back and sharing a cell with you, Bellatrix?” he asked.   
  
“You’ll never escape your past. You’ll run and run and run and run but never go anywhere.” She leaned forward, lips curled in a smile that Draco recognized. Bellatrix was truly pleased about something, and her expression promised pain.  
  
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She always had a way of hypnotizing people, and he was one who could sometimes appreciate the intricacies of her madness. “I hear whispers,” she said softly. “You’re chasing shadows. What happens when the shadows start to chase you back? Run, run, run little Draco . But where shall the scorned boy go?”  
  
“What the fuck does that mean?” Draco asked evenly, now less curious and more cautious. His breathing was uneven and he was less sure of his footing.  
  
Her answer was to grin and start humming again, letting her head roll on her neck, popping the joints there. She did what she set out to do, and now Draco was on guard. He wouldn’t be surprised if the sole reason she requested him here was to make him nervous . There would be no reasoning with her now. She wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the visit.  
  
They continued on their way outside of the room, and as soon as the door closed, Bellatrix started screaming, laughter intermingling with the high pitches. Draco put his hand on Buffy’s back, spurring her on quicker.   
  
Without a glance backwards, Draco ushered them out of the waiting room and into the air, the salting mist stinging their eyes. Buffy started taking deep breaths despite the cold air. “That was stifling. You’re related to her? What was she talking about?”  
  
Draco turned back to look at the foreboding fortress. Bellatrix’s icy laughter and gleaming eyes would haunt him. He was going to need a dreamless sleep potion or else the nightmares would plague him.   
  
He was no fool. When Bellatrix said she heard whispers, she meant something was afoot with dark wizards. The mention that he would be in Azkaban soon scared him more than he’d like to admit.   
  
“I don’t know, but this is Bellatrix. I do know that I won’t like whatever she has planned.”  
  
“She’s in prison, though,” Buffy said, confused. “How can she plan anything? Who could she possibly talk to in there?”  
  
Draco was suddenly drained and just wanted to go back to the Council and sleep for a week. The answer to Buffy’s question was simple. She couldn’t have visitors, so the only communication she could receive would be from other prisoners—all witches and wizards who wanted him and his father dead for denouncing Voldemort’s name and working for the very institution that put them in this hellhole and some that didn’t have such strict rules regarding their visitors.   
  
He wasn’t stupid enough to think that the Ministry caught every Voldemort supporter. The left a very dangerous amount of people free to plot and plan and communicate, with the Ministry none the wiser. With Voldemort gone and his father no longer playing for their side, Bellatrix was now the figurehead for them.   
  
The Dark Lord had been the only person able to rein her in. There was no legal Black heir until he turned seventeen, and by the time he switched sides, she had already been captured. If Bellatrix escaped, Draco would be the first person she would go after so she wouldn’t have to worry about pesky blood rituals he could use to tame her.   
  
“Well? What could she do from inside there?”  
  
Draco exhaled sharply. “Anything she wanted to.”


	3. Chapter 3

It had been relatively quiet at the Council for a few weeks. Slowly but surely, he and Granger were getting papers filled out, educating slayers on the do’s and don’ts of the Wizarding World. He was even learning some things about the supernatural world through the eyes of a Muggle. They finally finished all the major legal work for the slayers and had a system in place for the new slayers brought in.   
  
Buffy hadn’t mentioned their trip to anyone and refused to give details, but he saw how she was worried for him. Draco tried to exude confidence whenever someone brought up the visit in hopes that she would see him decidedly not nervous, but it didn’t work. She saw right through his façade and after a while he gave up.   
  
Bellatrix made him nervous, but he wasn’t about to let anyone know that. He was of the firm belief that someone needed to track down a Dementor and let them go to town on his aunt, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.   
  
Instead, he remained overly cautious, which was a good and bad thing. Draco noticed when something was wrong, and he woke up that day feeling like something was “off.” There was something gnawing at his gut and he felt nauseous from the moment he crawled out of bed. All throughout the day he kept getting strange looks and inquiries about his health. A headache that started after he got out of the shower that morning was throbbing behind his temples and he winced, trying to rub the ache.   
  
The last time he felt like this was the day he woke up, ready to open the cabinet and kill the Headmaster. That day, he was violently ill many times and he was feeling the same affects now. Only this time, he wasn’t plotting anything and the uncertainty was making him even more anxious.  
  
Draco was due to meet with Rupert and Granger to discuss school alternatives for the older slayers who wished to attend university, but he didn’t make it halfway down the hall from the library before he became dizzy and had to lean up against the stone for support. The feeling of dread crept up his spine and after taking a few deep breaths, he straightened and tried to continue on.  
  
“Draco?” He looked behind him, seeing Violet’s concerned face. “You look sick. Are you all right?”  
  
“Something’s wrong,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Something bad is going to happen, but I have no idea what that is.”  
  
His fight or flight instinct was kicking in, and adrenaline started to pulse through his veins. Saying to hell with it, Draco pushed off the wall but turned back around, intent on going to his rooms then Flooing to his flat to see if Blaise could tell him what the bloody hell was going on.   
  
He didn’t take two steps towards his rooms when yelling reverberated down the corridor. Draco recognized some of the voices and groaned. Aurors were coming, and now he knew that he should have just stayed in bed that morning. Before they arrived, Draco turned to Violet.   
  
“Run as fast as you can and get Granger.” Violet looked at him, confused, and he growled, “Go! _Now!_ ”  
  
She did as she was told and took off running in the direction of the library. He only hoped she got there and managed to get Rupert and Granger here before an Auror decided the world was better with one less Malfoy in it.   
  
By the time he got to his rooms, the Aurors would probably already be on top of him. The least guilty he looked, the better. He put the files he was carrying down on the decorative table in the hallway and waited as the voices got closer.   
  
Draco heard footsteps running from the other direction and looked up in time to see Buffy skidding around the corner. She rushed over to him, her eyes locked in the direction of the shouting. “What’s going on? Vi ran past me, said there was trouble, and that you needed Hermione.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t need her, but she’d be handy right about now. I have a feeling this is going to be a bit ugly.”  
  
He didn’t say anything else because the voices were right around the corner. Draco knew the best way to deal with this situation was to just shut up and let the Aurors think they knew what was going on.   
  
“—don’t care who he is or the position he holds. He’s broken the law and he will pay!”  
  
“Oh fuck,” Draco groaned.   
  
“Something wrong?”  
  
“Out of all the Aurors they could have sent, they send the one man who would gladly kill me if he could get away with it,” Draco muttered darkly. Sure enough, he saw the tell-tale Auror robes and a flash of red hair to go with it. “Whatever happens, be quiet and don’t do anything.”  
  
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “You know, when people say that it means I’m going to get pissed at whatever is about to happen.”  
  
Draco just gave her a tight grin and pushed off the wall he was leaning on. He made sure his hands were away from his body and his palms were up. Aurors tended to use the excuse _reaching for his wand_ a little too much for him to be comfortable.   
  
“Auror Weasley!” he shouted, flourishing in the flush that crept up Weasley’s neck and clashed with his hair. “How pleasant to see you!”  
  
“You’re a liar, Malfoy!” Weasley hissed, and Draco smirked.   
  
“Well, of course I am. I just told you that it was pleasant to see you.”   
  
“I meant about your business at Azkaban!”  
  
Draco kept the smirk firmly on his face even though he wanted to swear up a storm. If Weasley thought he was lying about something and it had to do with his recent visit to the Wizarding prison, things were going to very ugly very quickly. “What are you on about, Weasley?”  
  
He never noticed just how tall the youngest Weasley son was, but he was still sure of his wand skills. Plus, he was sure that the bulk Weasley possessed was no match for the blonde Slayer tensed at his side.   
  
“Who the hell are you?”  
  
Weasley dismissed the blonde, which was stupid on his part. “I hope you’re as good at your own defense as you are with others of your kind.”  
  
The smirk dropped abruptly and Draco took a step forward, dying to reach for his wand. He had aimed on being respectful, but now he didn’t care. “I’m not sure that I like your implication, Weasley. Just who are you classifying as my kind?”  
  
His eyes caught movement from around Weasley. He wanted to beat his head against the wall when he saw Potter skid around the corner, his hair windswept and his robes askew. The irritating Boy Who Wouldn’t Fucking Die rushed up behind Ron, but at least he didn’t look so hostile.  
  
“Potter, can you tell me what this is about?” Draco asked with a sigh. “I have business to do, business that the Ministry is paying me to do, and I’d really like to get my reports in so Robards doesn’t kick my arse.”  
  
Potter winced and tried to pull Weasley back. It didn’t work that well, so he inserted himself between his friend and Draco. “Can’t we take this somewhere besides a very public hall?”  
  
“What in the devil is going on here?!”  
  
Draco didn’t bother turning around because he was too busy enjoying the shock on Potter and Weasley’s faces. He hadn’t known that Granger hadn’t told her man-slaves that she was working with him, but it was providing endless amusement now. “Is there a problem, Gentlemen?”  
  
Their mouths were opening and closing, but no sounds were coming out. Granger marched up to both of them and poked them in the chest. He heard Violet ask Buffy what was going on behind them, but ignored the two slayers for the time being. He was enjoying watching Granger drill her finger into the two morons’ chests too much to pay any attention. “What do you think you are doing here?”  
  
“I think the better question is what are _you_ doing here?” Potter asked, clearly having more brain cells devoted to communication.   
  
“Is he hurting you?” Weasley asked lowly, and Granger threw her hands up in frustration.   
  
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, I work with him, Ron! I’m here to assist with the consulting. And before you think that he’s kidnapped me you should know when the job came up, I knew exactly who I would be working with and still went to Minister Robards with my resume and application.”   
  
Draco was impressed, but he wasn’t going to show it. He had hoped that she would be a neutral mediator when he and Weasley nearly came to blows, but he didn’t expect her to fully defend him.  
  
“You’re working with him? After knowing—”  
  
Weasley wisely cut himself off but the damage was done. Potter was still standing in front of Weasley and Granger was doing her best to add another body between the two wizards, but righteous indignation flooded through him.   
  
“After knowing what?” Draco asked slowly.   
  
Granger whirled around, her face pleading with him to drop it. He’d never been good at following orders. “Please, he didn’t mean anything by it.”  
  
“Oh, he meant something. I’d like to hear from him what it is. After knowing what, Weasley?”  
  
He and Weasley stared at each other, bodies practically vibrating in anger and tension, neither speaking. Weasley’s jaw was clenched and his temple throbbed, and it was clearly hard for him to hold his tongue. Potter stepped in, taking Draco’s attention.   
  
“We need to take you in for questioning about your visit in Azkaban.”  
  
Draco was an expert at reading people, but even if he wasn’t, he would have seen the hatred burning in Potter’s eyes at the mention of Azkaban. He knew that the recipient of his visit wasn’t a secret.   
  
“And what is the nature of the questioning?” Draco asked icily.   
  
Weasley tried to muscle his way past Potter, but the other Auror was surprisingly strong and held back his advances. “Stop it, Ron.”  
  
“He doesn’t get to ask that!”  
  
“I do actually,” Draco snapped, crossing his arms. “You may be good at roughing up people and arresting all the black hats in the world but it’s my job to know the boundaries. I have a right to know why you want to question me and believe it or not, I have a right to refuse to go with you. And since you think I’ve kidnapped and tortured your little girlfriend, I’m inclined to make your lives just a bit more difficult.”  
  
Oddly, Potter deflated when Draco was done with his spiel. “No, you don’t have that right. We were told to arrest you if you didn’t come with us. The questioning was just a courtesy.”  
  
Draco’s jaw dropped and he almost laughed. This had to be a joke. “What the hell are you talking about? Why the hell am I being arrested, and don’t you dare tell me I don’t get to know that!”  
  
Potter opened his mouth but Weasley interrupted him. “Conspiring with an inmate and conspiring to break an inmate out of Azkaban,” Weasley said with a proud grin, which quickly fell when both Draco and Buffy started laughing. “What’s so funny?”  
  
“Him?” Buffy asked, pointing her thumb at Draco. “Trying to help that loony out of that place? That’s what’s funny.”  
  
Through the laughter, Draco saw Potter open his mouth to question Buffy, but Weasley interrupted him again.  
  
“And just how would you know?”  
  
“Ron!” Potter said clearly agitated. “Back off, would you?”  
  
“Ron, you’re not doing any good here. You’re too angry.” Granger put a hand on his arm and tried to lead him off. “Let Harry handle Draco so this doesn’t explode.”  
  
Despite the insinuation that Potter could handle him, he was amused at Granger’s antics. “Yes, Weasley, let’s let the glorified Boy Who Lived do his job. You can try to play the hero some other time,” Draco snarled out, his laughing finished. He was tired of these games. He stopped when Buffy snorted next to him.   
  
“They call you The Boy Who Lived?” Buffy asked with a grin. She peered over her shoulder to share a smile with the slayers gathered there.   
  
Potter crossed his arms defensively. Draco smirked at the irritation the Wonder Boy felt for being stalled by a question that was usually never asked. He could see Potter was confused at why Buffy didn’t know who he was exactly, and was looking forward to the explanation he would give. “Why?”  
  
“That’s what you get? You get a name for living? You got screwed.”  
  
Draco tried to hold in his laughter. He swore Potter almost started pouting and decided that the whole experience was worth it. “Oh really? And what do they call you?”  
  
“The Girl Who Died. Twice.” Potter and Weasley’s eyes widened comically, and being a pureblood, Draco knew that Weasley was itching to try out a spell to detect necromancy. If he tried it, he only hoped Buffy would remember the time Draco nearly made her lose her hair and send Weasley flying out the front door. “Beat that, Mr. I’m so fabulous because I lived like the six billion other people on the planet.”   
  
Draco couldn’t control the snort of laughter that escaped. More snickers sounded behind him and he turned to see Rona and Kennedy were there, along with Julienne and Rona’s sister slayer.  
  
“Can we get back to the point, please?” Granger asked the three wizards, and Draco brought his focus back to her. He could see a small smile on her face as she looked at Buffy, but it was gone when she turned around. “Harry, what do you mean you’re here to arrest Draco?”  
  
“Why do you keep calling him that?” Weasley asked, but was ignored by both Potter and Granger.  
  
“She brings me sandwiches, too. The kind I like. I hear she got that information from the time Potter stalked me when we were sixteen.” When he first heard the information, Draco was horrified, but he was a Slytherin and fully planned on using that information to the best of his exploiting abilities. “Going through a phase, weren’t you, Potter? Not hard to imagine after the disaster of a snog you had with Chang, right?”  
  
This time Granger had to make sure Potter didn’t hex him outright while Draco stood back and grinned. The grin stopped when Granger glared at him over her shoulder. “You’re not helping!” she hissed.   
  
“Should I?” he asked bluntly. “Because they’re doing all they can to help _me_?”  
  
“I am, so let me help you!” she said briskly. Draco was silent for a few moments before nodding. That was true, and acting friendly with Granger was bringing an extra tic to Weasley’s eyes.  
  
Speaking of the Weasel, he gaped at her when she defended Draco. “That Death Eater scum doesn’t deserve your help!”  
  
There is was. That was the line both Potter and Weasley had been dying to say since this confrontation started. With a sneer, Draco thought it must have been a great relief to finally be able to say it out loud. “I was waiting for you to come out with that. I’m glad you announced it to the world.”   
  
He didn’t care what the slayers heard, because they knew what he was and how he was still under watch. Most of the slayers respected him because of his knowledge and because of his fashion sense. Rupert and he often ran circles at the dinner table with different discussions while he and Buffy could put runway critics to shame. He liked being diverse and most of the slayers admired that. He just wished he could bury his last teenage years in the sand and have it never be dug up.  
  
“I don’t need to announce it because that tattoo on your arm does all the help! You-Know-Who gave you orders and you followed them!”  
  
“Because he held his wand to my mother’s chest and told me if I didn’t he would rip out her heart!” The hall was silent after Draco’s outburst, but was tired of the accusatory glances. There was only so much he could take. His father may have been able to brush off accusations, but Draco was a bit more emotional than Lucius. “And I’m sorry that I believed that a psychotic madman who just ripped out the spine of a grown, armed man in front of me moments before would kill a sixteen year old boy’s mother for kicks!”  
  
Draco’s heart was pumping and he was panting like he’d played the hardest game of Quidditch in his life. He could sense this was going to be very emotionally draining. Granger’s hands were covering her mouth and Potter looked like he’d been hit with a stunner. Weasley was pale, but his jaw was set.  
  
“What the hell was I _supposed_ to do, Weasley? My father was in prison, one aunt hated the sight of me and the other would blast my mother to pieces for the hell of it! I did what I had to! So yes, I was a Death Eater because, Merlin forbid I let my mother die because I was a scared little boy who was tasked with the impossible. If you want to arrest me for that a decade later, go ahead.”  
  
“What did you talk to Lestrange about?” Potter asked quietly, and Draco admired the fact that he didn’t flinch at the glare Draco directed towards him. Not many could stand up to it. “I don’t know the details, all right? We’re just doing what we were told.”  
  
“She sent me a letter requesting a meeting with me as the last Black male heir.”  
  
He may have been a worthless pureblood, but Weasley knew what that meant. Even though Draco’s mood was thoroughly ruined for the next month, he felt some satisfaction at the fact that Weasley now looked defeated.   
  
“And you went? You’re not allowed to communicate with anyone from Azkaban.” Potter looked confused, or at least that’s what Draco assumed. It looked a lot like his normal face.   
  
“I can if I’m requested as the last heir of a pureblood line. If not, she could do numerous things to make my life a living hell even from Azkaban and it’d be perfectly legal.” Draco frowned at Potter’s clueless expression. It was irritating--the lack of knowledge of anyone who wasn’t born into the Wizarding World. Having to explain this to the slayers was hard enough. “She would have me killed, Potter, and no one would blink.”  
  
As Potter’s bushy eyebrows shot up, Draco huffed at having to spell it out for him so plainly.  
  
“We were told a female went with you,” Weasley said, now glaring at Granger who glared right back. Her hands went to her hips and her foot started tapping. Now that he wasn’t on the receiving end of that look, Draco understood why so many of the slayers thought it was amusing. Draco thought it was downright hilarious, especially since Weasley balked after a few seconds. Draco always stood up to it longer than that.  
  
“It wasn’t me. The Ministry sent a simply ridiculous letter to Draco saying that he had to have an escort, and they ruled out everyone they could think of. It half makes me think they wanted him to get into trouble with Bellatrix.”  
  
“Only half?” Draco asked dryly, and she flushed.   
  
Even though she could admit that the Ministry was wrong in a lot of policies, she was still loyal to the fact that she thought she could reform it. They spent many nights arguing over the fact that this was the way the Ministry always had been and always would be. Draco was right, of course, but she was too stubborn to admit it.   
  
“Yes, well, he found a way around it. There’s a law that says a registered magical creature could go, and that counted as an escort.”  
  
Weasley snorted. “The only magical creatures who are human are banned from Azkaban.”  
  
“How the hell did you know that?” Draco asked, staring at Weasley in shock. “You sounded half-way intelligent.”  
  
“Surprised, Malfoy?”  
  
“I’d be even more surprised if you could spell half the words you just said.”  
  
Granger rolled her eyes and turned to Potter and they kept their stance in between him and Weasley. “Minister Robards wanted Draco to register the two oldest slayers as magical creatures, which is barbaric and should be outlawed, but I won’t get into that now.”  
  
“Good, because I would like to go to sleep sometime this week,” Draco said offhandedly. Granger ignored him, as she tended to do when he made smart arse comments that she didn’t have a retort for. He let her this time.  
  
“She was registered, wore a collar, and accompanied him as per the Ministry’s rules and regulations,” Granger finished firmly.   
  
“And who is this wonder woman?” Weasley asked sarcastically, probably suspecting he cast _Imperio_ on Granger.   
  
To Draco’s surprise, Buffy waved her hand, the silver collar he’d disguised as a bracelet glinting off the lights in the hallway. He hadn’t known she kept it on. There was no real reason for it, except it was rather visually pleasing. “That would be me. Magical creature, extraordinaire.”  
  
“You’re one of the oldest vampire slayers?”  
  
“ _The_ oldest, thanks.” Buffy made a face. “And why did I just point out the fact that I’m old?”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, but Buffy’s afterthoughts, strange logic, and absolute massacre of the English language, even the Muggle one, was a comfort to have nearby. He turned to the Golden Trio in front of him. He was becoming drained, physically and emotionally. “So I followed the rules. Why am I being arrested again?”  
  
Weasley actually looked like he hesitated this time, and that made Draco worry. Weasley only hesitated after he thought something through and changed his mind about something. “We have reason to believe you conspired with Lestrange to break her out of Azkaban.”  
  
“And we’ve gone over the fact that I think that’s ridiculous. There was a listening and transcribing charm placed on the room. Go look at the records.”  
  
Potter was the one who hesitated this time. “The charms were tampered with. Nothing was recorded.”  
  
“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t me,” Draco said quickly. “I surrendered my wand and Buffy doesn’t even have magic.”  
  
“Wandless magic,” Potter rebutted.   
  
Draco crossed his arms. “I’m flattered that you think I’m magically advanced enough to have mastered wandless, non-verbal magic, but it’s not true. You know it’s not. Are these the only grounds for the arrest? You know it’s not enough.”  
  
“There are witnesses,” Weasley said.   
  
“Bullshit. The only people there were the guards. I encountered two in the waiting area and two brought in Bellatrix. I only spoke with the head guard and he went over my paperwork. Davies was called in, cleared Buffy and myself, and I didn’t even look twice at the guards who brought in Bellatrix. I doubt I’d pick them from a lineup because they were so insignificant.”  
  
As soon as he said that, Draco realized his problem. Potter and Weasley both slumped as soon as he made the admission, and it was then that he realized up until that point, they had been hoping to not arrest him. Well, Weasley would probably gladly throw him in Azkaban, but it was clear he did nothing wrong. “It was them, wasn’t it? They claim to be the witnesses that you have.”  
  
“Yes. We know you surrendered your primary wand, but there was nothing to stop you from carrying a secondary wand.”  
  
“I’m not my father, Potter. I don’t carry a wand on each limb and in a cane. I have one wand, and you can check my rooms, my flat in London, and the Manor in Wiltshire for all I care. I’ve only purchased one wand from Ollivander, and I did that when I was eleven.”  
  
“There are other wand makers,” Granger said softly.   
  
“And a Malfoy doesn’t deal with second rate wands,” Draco replied, hating that he had to word it in such a way that would offend the three people who could possibly help him. “Every wand my father acquired was from Ollivander or one of his close business associates. It was all legal because the purchase of illegal wands is one of the most foolish things a wizard can do.”  
  
Weasley snorted. “Besides joining a mad wizard who murders and tortures?”  
  
Draco flushed and decided Azkaban or no, the next time Weasley made a smart-arse comment like that, he was going to be hexed. “I’d really appreciate it if we could stay on task here. You want to arrest me and I’m not liable to go with you quietly. I want to figure this out quickly so I can carry on with my day.”  
  
“The fact remains that we have two witnesses who said you had a wand in the room and charms that were tampered with and then wiped of any magical signature. We have grounds for an arrest because of the seriousness of the possible crime.”  
  
Draco looked at Potter through narrowed eyes. He said possible, which meant he wasn’t completely sold on the fact that Draco was guilty. There was no way to immediately make this go away short of having the guards retract their original statement. Any physical or mental intimidation would give the appearance that he was covering his tracks. It put him in a bad position.   
  
“So, what happens now? You want me to come in for questioning?”  
  
“Yes,” Potter agreed with a nod. “We’ll note that you came willingly—”  
  
“That’s a stretch,” Draco interrupted sarcastically only to be glared at by Granger and Potter.  
  
“We’ll note that you came willingly and there will not be an arrest.”  
  
Draco turned to Weasley. “Is that to your liking?” The burly Auror scowled but nodded, and Draco sighed. “Very well. Then let’s go and get this over with.”  
  
He turned with a grin to the slayers behind him, hoping he looked confident. He’d been in pretty bad situations, and he knew the limits of the Ministry. “I’ll be back before dinner.”  
  
…………………………..  
  
Three days later and he was still being held at the Ministry. He wasn’t allowed to owl or Floo anyone, not even his father. Draco wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, because his luck would be that Lucius would let him stew for being so stupid to be arrested in the first place. He did scare the Aurors enough that he was allowed a bed and access to the employee restrooms and showers, but he was going to damn well file a complaint against the house elves the Ministry employed. If only his interrogators were so easily scared as elves.   
  
The bastards in the Ministry tried to break him and get him admit to something he didn’t do. He’d seen them do it many times before when he observed their interrogations, and he used all his knowledge against them. Draco knew their weaknesses, how partners traded off on going at him, and in the end, they got desperate. They weren’t pulling punches but he’d been schooled in remaining calm and not letting his emotions get the better of him. That didn’t mean he always kept his emotions in check, but it was worth letting himself go for a bit only to see the Auror’s faces drop when he reined himself in. Shattering their hope was a little bit too much fun.   
  
He could only be held for seventy-two hours unless he was charged with a crime, and they didn’t have any real grounds to place him under arrest. Draco knew it, the Aurors knew it, but he let them play their game. When his time was up, Draco stood quickly, making the Auror who had been shouting questions at him over the lone table in the interrogation room step back and draw his wand.   
  
Draco rolled his eyes. He’d been watching the time and knew the moment the seventy-two hours were up. “My time is done, gentlemen. I’m free to go now.”  
  
Both the Aurors hesitated and double checked the time to make sure he was telling the truth. Draco raised his eyebrows and walked out the door, their protests falling weakly from their lips as he walked away from them. He was anxious to get away from the Ministry and back to the Council. Who knew what chaos Granger caused in his absence.   
  
He ignored the open stares and whispers of the people walking down the halls. There weren’t that many employees this far from the offices, but those that were present knew who was and probably why he was taken in for questioning in the first place. He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. His appearance was already more rumpled than usual. He’d been wearing the same clothes for three days and hadn’t shaved or brushed his hair, but that morning he was allowed to finally clean up properly.  
  
After a quick stop at his desk to grab any papers waiting for him—catching up was going to be a _bitch_ \--Draco started down the hall towards the Atrium. Floo was his fastest way to get to the Council.  
  
“And just where do you think you’re going?” a crisp, sharp voice asked behind him. Draco sighed and his shoulders slumped, recognizing that voice and tone. The one person he didn’t want to see during this entire escapade was the Minister, but it seems his luck was running out. Robards was pissed off at him, and that never equaled anything good.   
  
“I was going back to the Council to continue to do the job you tasked for me before your Aurors hauled me in here for a completely idiotic reason. I could have walked days ago and I stayed because I didn’t want to cause a fuss, but I’m tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a hot bath. The showers here are abysmal.”  
  
Draco turned to walk out of the Ministry again but he heard Robards clear his throat. It reminded him of Umbridge’s prim and loud excuse for an attention-getter and he had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. He turned around slowly with an expectant look on his face. “Yes, sir?”  
  
“In the contract you signed when you took the job with the Watcher’s Council, it says that if you are absent from your post for seventy-two hours, you will be put on indefinite suspension and another consultant will be sent in your place pending your hearing before the Wizengamot.”  
  
Robards’ smug face would be burned into his mind forever.   
  
It took him a few moments to realize the contract implications. When he was assigned the Council job, Robards forced him into a ridiculously long and detailed contract. Draco read it over meticulously and he hadn’t even worried about that clause, because at the time he could not conceive of a reason why he’d be forced away from his job that didn’t result in death or maiming.  
  
He looked back at the Minister, trying to figure out the plot he in which he was involved. Seventy-two hours was a long time to be gone from a post without notice, but he remembered at the time of the signing wondering why it wasn’t shorter. Of course, having spent that exact amount of time in interrogations…  
  
Draco blinked. That was a rather large coincidence, or it would have been if he believed in them. Everything happened for a reason and so Draco began to go back and try to reason things out.   
  
The Ministry had been up in arms about helping the new Council. They thought the Council being in the country opened them to even more supernatural attacks, and after You-Know-Who, no one wanted another war. The Minister had been so against the slayers coming into the country to establish a new Council, Draco heard Robards mention he was glad the last one exploded and killed the rest of the watchers. He always found it odd when the attitude towards the Council did an about-face, but it wasn’t his place to question that, especially since he was shoved at the front of the line as the liaison.   
  
One of the first things Robards did when he’d been given this position was demand the two oldest slayers be registered as magical creatures. While Draco was hesitant to do it since it took away their legal voice and they could not testify on behalf of the Council, he figured that’s what he was for and Robards just wanted to be able to control the flow of information.  
  
But if Robards wanted to control information so badly, putting Granger with him wasn’t the way to do it. She was too stubborn in her ideals about the Ministry, claiming it was corrupt but could be repaired. Granger was select in who she told information and how much information certain people had. True, Robards was the Minister, but to her, that didn’t mean a thing. She was just as likely to tell Potter and Weasley as her boss.   
  
Not that Draco was complaining. She knew what she was doing and was able to help him get his job done quicker, and took up the slack when he needed to research a way to visit Bellatrix.  
  
This was another issue that bothered him. His aunt was not stupid. She didn’t believe that Draco could get her out. Bellatrix could be delusional about a great many things, but her release was not one of them. She also knew that if he could have released her, he wouldn’t do it. The only productive thing about that meeting was her almost warning him about his impending questioning. But the only way she could have known that he would be questioned was if she knew. Bellatrix would have agreed to do it just to fuck with him.   
  
Suddenly, Draco was not thinking of the Ministry as his employer, but as an institution that wanted him out of sight and out of mind. If Bellatrix had been told what would have happened, she would have gladly gone along because to her, it wasn’t fair that a traitor be rewarded with freedom to help little Muggle girls fight darkness. But she was the only one who could get him into Azkaban and that was all they needed. Two random guards say they saw him with a wand, tamper with the charms themselves, and there were grounds for questioning.   
  
Draco’s breathing picked up and he started to panic. Him being gone left the Council exposed for three whole days and Robards could now send in anyone he wanted. Everyone knew that Draco was fine with morally gray work that others found questionable. Added to the fact that Draco was on a tight leash anyway from having the last name ‘Malfoy’, it was a clear choice for Robards. Who better to complete paperwork that would belittle humans into nothing better than animals?  
  
Draco had done the dirty work for Robards and all that got him was suspended while awaiting trial. There was no doubt in his mind; he would be tried as a former Death Eater, and found guilty. He would be lucky if he got house arrest. The Council and all the slayers would be under the influence of the Ministry because of the under the table paperwork Robards forced on him. Draco was also the only one Robards could force into a tight contract, and he made sure that contract had a clause that would damn him if he was ever questioned.   
  
No one who received the paperwork here in the Ministry would ever know about the drive behind it. They would see another piece of parchment needing to be filed away. The only one who could have connected the dots and started the process before it began was Granger, and Robards had so conveniently asked her to volunteer to help him. Of course she jumped at the chance to help a situation that would possibly integrate Muggles into the Wizarding World.  
  
The only problem was Draco didn’t know the end game. He didn’t know why Robards had gone through this long process spanning months. Until he knew that, he was walking blind.  
  
After taking a deep breath, Draco once again brought his gaze up to meet Robards’ face. “It was a conspiracy,” he whispered, the words nearly not making it out of his mouth. They were extremely bitter on his tongue. “You set me up at the Council and now that I’ve finished my work you’re going to put me where no one will listen.”  
  
His accusing glare didn’t faze Robards in the slightest. The Minister stood with his hands clasped behind his back and looked down at him with a condescending expression. “You’ve always been a smart boy, Draco. I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming.”  
  
Draco let out a huff of air, still in shock. “The contract, the registration papers, Granger, the letter from Bellatrix—you planned it all so I would get in there, get your dirty work done, and you could legally trash me for it afterwards.”  
  
“You always said I would hang myself with the details. I finally listened.” Robards put his hand on Draco’s shoulder and it took all of Draco’s will not to push it off and hex Robards in the face. No sense in getting arrested now, since he had damage control to deal with back at the Council. “I’ll have the consultant taking over owl your things to you. I don’t want you going back to the Council. Pending your trial, you can remain here and do any work our consultants don’t want to take on.”  
  
Instantly, he was on alert. His shoulders tensed and he knew Robards felt it under his hand. There was no legal reason Draco couldn’t visit the Council and owling over all his things would be much more difficult and time consuming than allowing him to retrieve them himself. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why don’t you want me returning to the Council? What’s happened?”  
  
Robards hesitated, and Draco knew he was on the right track. The man never stopped unless he was unsure of the outcome. Draco storming back to the Council had a number of negative outcomes for the Ministry. Something had happened and Robards didn’t want him to know about it. “What happened?” he asked again, his voice harder.   
  
Not waiting for a response, Draco spun around and rushed through the corridors. The atrium would be packed, but he didn’t care if he pissed off some bureaucrat trying to head home to his family. This was much more important. He ran across the dark floor and slid in front of some secretary looking bored as the green flamed engulfed the person in front of her.   
  
“Oi!” she exclaimed. Draco just glared and threw down a handful of power, yelling the name of the public Floo in the parlor and ignoring Robards’ shouting for him.   
  
The first thing he noticed was the chaotic noise surrounding him. No one was in the parlor but something had everyone in arms. The atmosphere wasn’t the normal laidback, charged air he was used to. Things were apprehensive here.  
  
Draco rushed out into the hall and towards the dining hall, which is where most of the shouting seemed to come from. When he rounded the last corner, he saw Granger going head to head with Jonah Entwhistle, older brother to their schoolmate Kevin. Both men were right bastards and that was saying something coming from him. Jonah was a protégé of Robards and the perfect lapdog.   
  
“Entwhistle!” Draco shouted, prompting Hermione to turn around with wide eyes. He would have commented on the owlish look, except he was too irrationally pissed off. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”  
  
The man was smug and Draco barely restrained throwing a hex at him. “I’m here to relieve you of your position because of your suspension,” the man said, his sneer oily and far too superior for Draco’s liking.  
  
“You’re not even a consultant, you bastard, so I’ll ask you again—what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”  
  
He handed over papers that Draco skimmed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped them in anger. Words blurred together, but it was the repeated signature of Robards that made his vision go red. “You joined the consulting department three days ago.” Draco glanced up at the other man with narrowed eyes. That damn number of seventy two hours. “Don’t think the timing is lost on me.”  
  
“You catch on quick, Malfoy, so I wouldn’t expect anything less.”  
  
The comment was as sarcastic as they came, but Draco forced himself to remain calm. His first priority was getting Entwhistle out of the building so he could get with Granger, Rupert, and the other heads of the Council and figure out what to do. He thrust the papers back to Entwhistle. “It says you can stay on because there is already one registered consultant on the premises. You’re not even living here?”  
  
As the other man took the papers, Draco viciously wished he would at least get a papercut. “I have a family, Malfoy. I can’t be deprived of that. There’s no need for my children to grow up with no strong father figure.”  
  
Draco started to pace, otherwise he would have let loose and hexed Entwhistle who grinned at Hermione. There were rumors that the eldest Entwhistle wasn’t faithful to his wife, and Draco resisted the urge to curse the dick right off the bastard. He may not have liked the bint, but no one deserved to have that look directed at them.  
  
“It looks like we’ll be working together, Hermione.”  
  
Granger narrowed her eyes and Draco could have sworn she was about to hiss at him like her kneazle and cat cross tended to when he entered the room. “It’s Miss Granger to you.”  
  
He was not going to stick out his tongue at Entwhistle. _He was not going to stick out his tongue at Entwhistle_. In the end, he couldn't help himself. While he was behind Granger, he stuck out his tongue. Entwhistle narrowed his eyes and ignored Draco.  
  
“Very well. I understand you’d like to remain professional as my supervisor.”  
  
Draco snorted. “Robards is going to have you as primary on this consult and you know it.” The sleazy smile on Entwhistle’s face made him want to take a shower, more so than he already wanted to. After minutes of calm and resisting the urge do physical harm to the idiots who liked to use him for their own gain, his mouth finally got the better of him. It was eventually inevitable. “Tell me I don’t look like that when I feel confident.”  
  
Granger smirked, keeping her eyes trained on Entwhistle. She viewed him as a threat just as much as he did. “Of course not. Not everyone can pull off the look and not give the appearance of a constipated blast-ended skrewt.”  
  
Draco snorted and Entwhistle flushed, clearly not appreciating the imagery as they did.   
  
“Well,” he said, clearly trying to regain his footing after being insulted, “I only came to drop off my papers. I will be here tomorrow at eight in the morning. We will begin then.”  
  
Entwhistle started towards the parlor, knocking shoulders with Draco as he went, which made the grin on Draco’s face widen. How delightfully childish. If he could keep Entwhistle off his toes and keep him guessing, this would be easier for him.   
  
As soon as he was gone, Granger turned to him, her calculated expression falling and worry overtaking her features. Draco’s eyebrow went up. She had actually been concerned for him? “How are they?”  
  
“How are who?” He could see the panic come into Granger’s eyes and his stomach dropped. Something _had_ happened and worse case scenarios started flying through his mind. If there had been a death, he would have at least known.  
  
Before Granger could explain, Draco looked up as Buffy came rushing around the corner. She looked as tired as he did. Her normally sleek blonde hair was falling flat and her clothes were rumbled and mismatched. “I heard you were back. Do you have them with you?”  
  
She began looking around and Draco determined that the panic was catching. “What the bloody hell are you two on about?”  
  
“You don’t know?” Buffy asked and he quickly shook his head. “Vi, Rona and Jules were arrested two nights ago by the wizards. We thought you stayed behind to work on getting them released.”  
  
Draco blindly put a hand out against the wall to support himself because his legs were about to collapse between him. His brain didn’t comprehend what he was hearing. Some of the slayers had been arrested? How had they not seen each other in the interrogation rooms? “I was in interrogation the past three days. I never saw them,” he said faintly. “Why were they arrested?”  
  
Granger started wringing her hands. He’d noticed that to be a habit of hers when she was overly nervous, which didn’t bode well for their situation. “Aurors were patrolling a local area after a suspicious call came in that claimed vampires were hunting. They were trying to be covert but Jules mistook an Auror for a vampire and attacked. Vi realized before Jules and pulled her off, but not before they were arrested for attacking an Auror. Rona’s sister slayer, Lizzy, barely got away.”  
  
He closed his eyes. There it was. The end game.   
  
“I want to speak with her,” Draco said after a few moments. If he could figure out the identity of the Aurors or what exactly happened there was a chance he could get the girls out of the situation.   
  
“What’s going on, Draco? First your supposed arrest and now the girls?”  
  
“They’re going to crucify them.”  
  
“They’re going to _crucify them_?” Buffy asked sharply.  
  
He gave her a tight grin. “I didn’t mean literally. They’re going to use them as examples of how dangerous Slayers are. They attacked law enforcement personnel. Instead of coming out against slayers and worrying about them getting the sympathetic vote because they are young females, he’ll spin it so that they’re seen as dangerous and could be killers.”  
  
He let out a humorless laugh as he realized something else in the web Robards had spun. “That’s why he wanted only you and Faith registered first. She’s committed murder under the guise of slaying and you can’t testify on my behalf from our time in Azkaban. He can use that and then link it to me and how I recently met with Bellatrix.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Buffy said, looking between him and Granger curiously.  
  
Draco saw the moment Granger finally got it. She’d been quiet, and he swore he always saw the wheels in her head turning. She was going through the facts just like he had, only she hadn’t been stuck in interrogations for three days. Shock filtered across her face before disbelief. “It was planned. This whole thing was planned from the very beginning.”  
  
“Exactly,” he said grimly. “And who were the only two people smart enough to figure it out and stop it if we’d somehow been at the Ministry as all this was unfolding?”  
  
“Us,” she slowly replied. “He could assign you here and knew that I would want to work here as well. With us tied up here, there was no way we’d realize the plan until it had come to fruition. The magical creature registration, the letter from your aunt, your arrest and the Aurors getting the call—it was all part of his conspiracy, wasn’t it?”  
  
She had summed it up so nicely and it all pointed back to him. He was the one who was in charge of monitoring the slayers. He was the one who went to Azkaban and met with Bellatrix. He was the one who was gone when the slayers were arrested for attacking Aurors. He was the one who let this all happen in the first place.  
  
The calm he tried so hard to wrap around him snapped. Draco slammed his fist against the wall, relishing in the pain it brought. He had the sense not to smash his knuckles lest the Malfoy signet ring cut him to the bone, but the twinge still was sharp.  
  
“And in my contract I signed, if I was absent from my post for more than seventy-two hours, Robards would have grounds to suspend me and put me on trial, leaving the door wide open for Entwhistle. I can’t even go public with this because of the damn thing.”  
  
Granger’s face fell. “He’ll deny my requests to be moved back to the Ministry and I’ll have all my time taken up by watching Entwhistle. There will be no one at the Ministry who will help the Council.” Things seemed pretty bleak, but Granger suddenly turned to him with a hopeful look on her face. “What about Roger?”  
  
Draco shook his head. He’d thought the same when he was brought into the Ministry on the first day. “Sent on a four month assignment to India the day after I asked him for a consult in Azkaban. He was overlooked but quickly taken care of. There’s no one.”  
  
“So, you’re on suspension? You aren’t allowed to take consulting jobs?” Granger asked carefully.  
  
Draco made a bitter face. “No. I’ll be on desk duty where they can keep an eye on me.”  
  
“Resign,” Granger quickly said, and it shocked him that she was adamant. “Resign before you are officially called to trial and Rupert can hire you on as a consultant not affiliated with the Ministry. I can watch Entwhistle and you can get us out of this mess.”  
  
It was a good plan. It was a wonderful plan, but there were holes in her logic. “It doesn’t matter if I resign from my post, I’ll still be called to trial.”  
  
“Why?”   
  
Granger honestly seemed confused, and Draco gave her a sad smile before lifting his left arm. “Any Death Eater suspected of illicit activities while on a probation of any sort must be seen by the Wizengamot.”  
  
“Resign anyway and help us, Draco.”  
  
Buffy had been silent the entire time, staying out of the discussion. He looked over at her, and saw that she had probably not gotten any sleep for the past few days. She always worried about the safety of the other slayers, and this situation was completely out of her control. She couldn’t rush to get her slayers and the only people who could were tied up. Granger was right, she could only watch Entwhistle.   
  
“I’ll send the letter after I speak with Elizabeth,” Draco said with a sigh. “Then we’ll get to work.”  
  
Draco looked over at Buffy and then at Granger, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. “We’ll get them back.”


	4. Chapter 4

A month passed and he was no closer to figuring out how to get the three slayers out of Azkaban than he was the day he first heard about their arrest. Elizabeth and Rona had been dealing with a wizard that had been bitten when Violet called out for Rona’s help. Elizabeth hadn’t seen or heard much of the incident. She only saw the Aurors who came to the “aid” of the wizards in the area who supposedly reported the vampire. Julienne had mistaken the rustling bushes for a vampire in hiding when in truth it was only the Aurors trying to “ambush” the vampire. It was an airtight excuse on the part of the Aurors. No one would doubt them.  
  
Their trial was pushed back and not scheduled for another three months, and Draco’s own trial was postponed until after that. He waited as long as he could to resign, which was a week ago. He used up all his resources trying to get Violet, Rona, and Julienne out of prison, but no one would budge. Draco knew the signs of blackmail, and he was almost, _almost_ , impressed at the levels Robards had gone to make this airtight, but Draco wasn’t going to let him get away with it.   
  
He was now officially a guest at the Council. He was given his old room and spent most of the time in the library. Entwhistle tried to make a mess of things, but Granger quickly squashed him down. When she was unsure, they would meet late after Entwhistle left and discuss things, him telling her how to defuse Entwhistle's arguments. He was trying to get her to appeal to her Slytherin nature, and the results with Entwhistle were amusing.   
  
The strain of the job was taking its toll on both of them, but neither was going to admit defeat. Draco was surprised to learn she enlisted Potter and Weasley’s help. They were trying to work over the Aurors who made the arrest, but to no avail. Robards had everyone firmly in his pocket, either with money or blackmail.   
  
It was late at night, well past midnight he supposed, and Draco was still pouring over books. Words were blurring together and the faint light from his wand was growing dimmer, a sign that his magic was exhausted, but he wouldn’t stop.   
  
How many times had he worked with Granger in this very library when Violet or Julienne would bring him something to eat or just see how he was doing? Baiting Kennedy just wasn’t the same without Rona, and Kennedy seemed to realize that because she refused to bait him as well. The entire Council was walking on pins and all relying on him to fix the situation, but this was one situation he didn’t think he could work his way around.   
  
“Hey.”  
  
Draco looked up, blinking in the light. Buffy was standing on the other end of the table, a robe pulled around her. She looked about as horrible as he imagined he did, but depressed or not, she would still dismember him for saying her hair was abysmal. He kept his mouth silent about _that_.  
  
“Hello,” he said, arching his back to get the kinks out. The cushioning charm he cast on the chair had long worn off. He didn’t notice until now. “What are you doing up?”  
  
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said simply, coming over to sit in the chair next to him that Granger vacated earlier in the evening. Most of the other chairs were full of books, and the wood of the table was completely covered in parchments. “Decided to see how you were doing.”  
  
“You knew I wouldn’t be asleep?”  
  
“When was the last time you went to your rooms to sleep?”  
  
She had a point there. He went to shower, change, and came right back to the library. The last few hours of sleep he’d gotten were the result of exhaustion. He finally collapsed into the books before being awoken early the next morning by Granger coming in for research.   
  
“I can’t figure it out. I don’t know how to get them released,” Draco said softly. It hurt to admit that out loud. He was the best at what he did, and he’d been outwitted. It was more than a mark against his pride, though. “It was my fault. They got dragged into this and it shouldn’t have happened. I should have seen the trap.”  
  
“Why does that weight solely rest on you?” Buffy asked. “You can’t be in everyone’s mind and suspect everyone.”  
  
“Why the bloody hell not?” he asked stubbornly, reading over lines and lines of words he already read before. Nothing was working for him right now. Draco clenched his jaw and continued on. “You do it all the time.”  
  
That made Buffy sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But the difference is I can worry all I want. It’s not going to bring them back.”  
  
“You’re depending on me for that, Buffy. So let me do my job.” He began flipping through more books angrily but stopped when she put her hand on his.   
  
“I don’t blame you for this, you know, and neither do they,” the slayer whispered, and Draco looked up at her, his own face closed off. She was open to him, honesty painting her features but Draco had repeated that it was his fault so many times recently that nothing short of having Violet, Julienne, and Rona scream it to him was going to make it go away.   
  
“It’s my fault, and I have to do this.”  
  
Buffy nodded, seeing that he wasn’t going to move on the thought. She stood and wrapped her arms around herself. “Try to at least get a nap on one of the couches in here, would you? You’re no good to us sleepwalking.”  
  
Draco smirked tiredly and nodded, the smirk falling the moment she was out of sight. With a sigh, he laid his head down on the books. This was one battle he was going to have to give up, because there was no way he was going to win it. Sooner or later he’d have to focus on his own trial, but giving up on the girls was incomprehensible.   
  
He picked his head back up and pulled another book closer.   
  
………………………………  
  
Draco was woken up by a noise. He wasn’t sure what the noise was, exactly, but he recognized in his tired, dreamy haze that his head was pillowed by pages of books and that his right arm was numb. With a slight groan, Draco opened his eyes, prepared to tell whoever was tapping to bugger off.   
  
He was _not_ prepared, however, to see his father sitting in the chair across from him, glaring at his son while tapping his gloved fingers on the head of his cane.  
  
Draco shot up, instantly awake and horrified. “What are you doing here?” He tried to smooth his hair and scrubbed at his face, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. The disgusted look his father gave him just confirmed it.  
  
“I am watching my son waste away for the sake of three Muggle girls he met on assignment at a job he shamefully resigned from over a week ago. That, Draco, is what I am doing here.”   
  
He tried to blink the sleep away from his eyes and boost his awareness. His father’s tone was sharp and biting and even at his best Draco had to work at keeping up with his father’s wit. He was going to be destroyed today.   
  
“Besides that, Father, what are you doing here, in the library of the Council? How did you even get in?”  
  
Lucius glanced around with a bored expression. This was nothing compared to the library at the Manor, so Draco wasn’t sure what the man was doing. It was highly off-putting. “The wards were hardly adequate to keep me out. It was easy to find a way in.”  
  
That was a flat out lie, and Draco knew it. The only other way in was Portkey or Floo, but the location of the Council and the Floo address were kept secret and only given out to those of close affiliation. He hadn’t let his father know for obvious reasons, only his…  
  
Draco groaned and let his head fall back. “I gave Mother the Floo address when I first started working here and she gave it to you.”  
  
Lucius nodded, his eyes hooded yet condescending. Draco knew that slip up had been a disappointment. If he was truly awake, he wouldn’t have bothered with the question, knowing the only logical way for his father to enter was through his mother.   
  
“If you are so desperate to help these Muggles, you should at least rest your mind so you function at your best.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Draco said dejectedly, leaning his elbow on the table. He hated sounding so defeated, but it was the truth. “If I was going to find something, I would have found it by now. The plot was too well choreographed and I walked right into their trap.”  
  
Lucius stood regally. “Of course you did.”  
  
Draco glared up at him. Just because he was right didn’t mean his father had to agree and put him down. “You and mother were the ones who insisted I get a job in the first place and of course I got it at the Ministry because who else was going to hire me?”  
  
“But I did not think you so profoundly stupid that you would not suspect that the Ministry would have ulterior motives with you in its employment,” he drolly replied and Draco rolled his eyes.   
  
“I fully expected them to give me away as bait for the patrols the Slayers go on, but they didn’t. Everything came together at the last minute.”  
  
Lucius sent Draco a fierce glare, a sign that Draco was being stupid in his father’s eyes, was missing the point entirely, and was about to get a full verbal lashing. He kept a close eye on the silver snake head cane in his father’s hands, ready to duck if needed.  
  
“Nothing ever comes together at the last minute. From the moment the last Council was destroyed, the Ministry began taking precautions for when the newer one would be established. They knew they would need a liaison and that you would play into their hands. You had a use, Draco. You were an easy scapegoat. They just needed a situation in which to insert you.”  
  
Draco closed the book in front of him and pushed it away, now disgusted with the words. “It’s a game to them, and I was just a pawn. They used me to put this place in the ground under the guise of trying to help them. I know the irony of appealing to your moral side.   
  
Lucius narrowed his eyes, and Draco saw the cane lift up a few inches before being set back down. To his surprise, his father nodded. “I agree with you that you were just used, and in a less than favorable manner, but you should remember that the pawn is the most powerful piece in the game.”  
  
He was fully prepared to tune his father out if he went on a tangent because he was already exhausted, but one thing Draco had learned was that Lucius Malfoy didn’t throw words out if there wasn’t reasoning behind them. There was a chance he would glean something useful from his father.  
  
“It is the weakest piece through the beginning of the game. It must battle every other piece on the chess board, including other pawns to reach the end of the board. When it does, it becomes the most powerful piece.” Lucius’ eyes caught his own, an emotion in them Draco couldn’t place.  
  
It was then that Draco realized with shock this was his father’s way of trying to help him. He couldn’t come out and say it, because Lucius never did that. He threw hints out and expected Draco to work things out on his own. He did it when Draco was young, and it was just as irritating now as it was back then.  
  
“Once the pawn reaches the end of the board, my son, it can become anything it wants. It can become a rook, a bishop, a knight, or a queen, the most versatile piece in the game.”  
  
There was a lump in Draco’s throat. He was honored that his father thought he had the ability to conquer the game, but in this instance, he was in checkmate. “Everything is airtight,” he said firmly. “The Aurors were questioned under Veritaserum.”  
  
“Veritaserum can be cheated.”  
  
Well, everyone with ties to dark magic knew that, but Draco wasn’t stupid. “I checked the transcripts myself. There was no way that they cheated their way around it.”  
  
Now he was getting frustrated again. Draco sat back and crossed his arms.   
  
“Do stop pouting, Draco,” Lucius said, sitting down once again, his hand resting on top of the cane. “Walk through the incident.”  
  
He relaxed in the chair and even though they were of equal height, when Lucius looked at Draco, he felt like he was five and being told to recite a list of potion ingredients he was given earlier in the day. “I’ve walked through the damn incident numer—”  
  
“Then stop shouting at me like a child and walk through them again,” Lucius said firmly, his grip tightening on the snake head. Draco forced himself to relax, closing his eyes, going over the details he accumulated from Elizabeth and the reports.   
  
“Violet, Rona, Julienne and Elizabeth were patrolling the closest cemetary for suspicious vampire activity. The Aurors received word from an unnamed source that vampires were in the area and were sent to investigate. They killed one vampire and continued their search. The slayers ran across a wizard who had been bitten. Rona and Elizabeth stayed behind to help him and Violet and Julienne went to investigate. Julienne mistook the Aurors waiting for vampires in the bushes for actual vampires and engaged a fight. Violet pulled her back when she realized they were human. She called for Rona who left Elizabeth with the wizard. Violet screamed for her to run when the Aurors started to arrest them, so she did, leaving the wizard behind. The three slayers were arrested and taken to the Ministry.”  
  
“And what happened to the bitten wizard?”  
  
Draco’s eyes popped open. He hadn’t even considered that, thinking the wizard who was bitten received help and continued on his merry way. Pulling the copy of the Auror reports towards him quickly, Draco saw that there was no follow-up with the wizard at all, which was against policy. Even if the slayers had reported it, the Aurors were bound by law to find the wizard and get his statement. Looking further into the report, the town the vampire report had come from was completely Muggle, and there was no report of a wizard living there.   
  
He sat back in shock, the parchment falling from his fingers. He was a complete idiot for not seeing it earlier. “It was a plant. The vampire was a plant and the wizard wasn’t a wizard at all. It was a Muggle that was later Obliviated.”  
  
Draco realized then that his father could not have figured all this out on his own in this amount of time. It was impossible. He turned accusing eyes to the still calm Lucius. “You knew, didn’t you? Since when?”  
  
“I made inquiries this morning.”  
  
Draco curbed the urge to throw something and have a tantrum right there in the middle of the library. He slaved for over a month over this, avoiding sleep and food, and still came up empty. His father, however, could waltz into the Ministry, make “inquiries”, and come up with details that eluded Draco. It was maddening.   
  
He wouldn’t harp on it though. Draco looked over at his father curiously. “Why did you do this? Why did you even bother to make inquiries?” After a pause, he asked a question that he swore he would never ask his father in his entire life. “What is my use for you in this game?”  
  
The air gained an edge that had been absent earlier, but Draco refused to look away from Lucius’ gaze. Moments passed and it was completely silent. If his father wasn’t going to tell him, there was no point in wasting his precious time, so he stood and gathered the papers he would need to present to the Wizengamot.   
  
He took two steps away from the table when his father answered him.   
  
“It is true that you started laying this path, but you are correcting it. You are exposing an evil in the Ministry that the people of the community have been whispering about for years. You, along with Granger, and by default Potter and Weasley, are trying to fix the problems set before you, and in doing so are keeping a group of young female fighters safe and able to train to continue their work.”  
  
His father didn’t care about any of that. With a sardonic grin, Draco looked back at his father with the true answer. As tired as he was, even he knew this one. “Image. I see my wrongs, fix them, expose the bad people in the Ministry and gain trust with the media darlings of the Wizarding World. Our status will be elevated once again.”  
  
Lucius nodded, and a glimmer of pleasure flitted across his face. Even at his age and with all of the poisoned interactions they had in the past, he was still a son looking for approval from his father. Draco was starting to gain confidence.  
  
But then Lucius looked away and the moment was broken. Draco readjusted the papers in his arms while his father spoke again.   
  
“Also, Narcissa claims motherly intuition, but she’s been active in her social circles checking on you. If I didn’t agree to help, she declared there would be another incident like the one with the Persian, but this time it would be the bed instead of the rug.”  
  
Draco made sure to turn his back before he smirked. He would have to send her flowers.  
  
……………………..  
  
Draco stared down the guard, his palms flush against the guard’s desk as the nervous wizard quickly looked through his papers. The guard wouldn’t meet his eyes but Draco didn’t care just now. His jaw was clenched in anger, the type of anger that everyone in the room knew was just waiting to be unleashed.   
  
It took two more weeks to convince the Wizengamot of the honesty of his claims. Draco went to find the Muggle, had the man examined, and found that there were signs of Memory Charms. The Aurors were interrogated again extensively, with him asking the right questions, and the true plot was revealed. Robards’ web of lies was quickly unraveling and Draco planned to be there every step of the way.   
  
Now, he was not outlining his next step, negotiating the release of Violet, Rona, and Julienne. The girls had been put away for far too long and he jumped through too many hoops to have them stay in there another night.  
  
“I assure you everything is in order,” he said softly and was rewarded when the guard’s hand shook a bit as he handed back the papers. Draco took them and tucked them into the pocket of his outer robe. He looked over his shoulder at Buffy. “You’ll have to stay here. Granger and I will fetch them.”  
  
Buffy crossed her arms and nodded, clearly not happy with that, but accepting it. The anger pouring off of her was daunting as well, but the guards didn’t know well enough to not piss her off. Draco hoped one of them slipped up. One of the guards had been here when they went to visit Bellatrix, and was eyeing Buffy curiously.  
  
The nervous guard stood and opened the door into the prison hallway. Draco strode toward the entrance into the cells of Azkaban and tried to keep the cold shivers at bay. He was never imprisoned here, but he knew what horrors this place held. Each damp stone held a dark memory of a tortured innocent soul or a raving sociopath. Draco made sure to keep his eyes forward, never glancing into the cells as hands reached for him through the grimy bars, but he couldn’t help but wonder which stone his father claimed.   
  
When the guard leading them stopped and pulled his wand to open the cells, Draco’s eyes widened when he saw the state of it. Granger gasped behind him and it took all his will not to hit the guard with a curse so severe his family would feel it.   
  
There were three bodies in the cell, two more than allowed. Draco could see Violet’s red hair as it hung over her face. She was facing the front of the cell and he noticed her posture. She was ready to strike if needed. Buffy would have been proud. Rona had her back against the dirty wall, but little Julienne had her head in Rona’s lap, and if Draco couldn’t see the faint rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought she was dead.   
  
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked slowly. “Are you trying to kill them?”  
  
Violet’s head snapped up the moment he started talking. “Draco?” He thought he would be ill at the state of her.  
  
Granger immediately walked up to the bars and peered in. “Are you all right?”  
  
The redheaded slayer shook her head. “Jules, she’s really sick. And Rona’s really shaky because she hasn’t eaten in a few days. I’m slightly better than her. I can kick some ass if needed.”  
  
That brought a small smirk to Draco’s face before a scowl took over as he looked to the guard. “Well? _Unlock it_!”  
  
Granger nearly bowled him over to get inside, and she quickly went to check on Julienne and Rona. Draco walked over to Violet and put his hand on her shoulder. It was tense and he could feel her muscles shaking, the bone pressing up against his hand.  
  
“It’s okay, Violet. You’re going home.”  
  
She mustered up a small smile for him. “My knight in shining armor.”  
  
“Draco,” Granger said, and he looked up at the urgency in her voice. Julienne was awake, but she was very pale. Rona would need help walking.   
  
He looked back to Violet. “Think you can make it yourself?” She nodded and stood. He was proud to notice she looked much steadier than she truly was.   
  
After he moved over to Julienne, Draco noticed she would definitely need a healer. Wounds hadn’t properly healed from the fight they had before the arrest, and she needed food and water.   
  
“The provisions are abysmal,” Granger said in disgust as she helped Julienne sit up. “I saw what the other prisoners ate and drank. A stale loaf of bread, a slice of cheese, and water that isn’t fit for a dog.”  
  
“Well, they can’t afford better. Father was dining like he was at the Manor every night because of the extra coin slipped to the guards from his solicitors. The ones who get treated like shite don’t usually survive to complain.”  
  
“You’re not supposed to swear like that. Willow doesn’t like it,” Julienne said softly, and Draco smirked. It was either that or cry, and damned if he was going to let her ruin his reputation now.  
  
“This is one of those situations that calls for it.”  
  
The young slayer could barely hold her head up and she coughed, her whole body shaking with the force of it. Draco put his arms under her legs and around her back, easily lifting her from the floor. Granger helped Rona stand and Violet was immediately on her other side, steadying her sister slayer.   
  
As Draco walked out of the cell, he glared harshly at the guard. His own solicitors were going to have a field day with all of the suits Draco planned to throw against the Ministry for this after he finished destroying it from the inside out.   
  
The walk back to the entrance seemed much longer than it had before, but Julienne was not much extra weight. Twice more she coughed and Draco had to tighten his hold on her before she slipped from his arms. The double doors were finally in sight and Draco kicked one open with his foot.   
  
Buffy turned immediately and rushed over, the slayer’s arms outstretched to take Julienne from his arms. He shook his head and motioned to Violet and Rona. “I’ve got her. Help them.”  
  
He knew the urge to protect one of the baby slayers was strong for Buffy, but she obviously saw his need to do his part. Their conversation about this whole situation being his fault was still fresh in his mind, and she nodded. She moved to take Rona from Granger so the witch could look over Violet. Draco looked at Granger. “Get ready to send some owls. I’ll be contacting my healers and solicitors.”  
  
The small sense of satisfaction Draco got from watching all the Ministry personnel in the room tremble was enough to bring a smirk to his face again. He tightened his hold on Julienne and stepped out of the prison, walking along the outer walls to the Portkey pads. The cold air was biting and Julienne shivered in his arms.  
  
“I’m ready to go home,” Julienne said, closing her eyes after a particularly harsh coughing fit.   
  
“I know,” he replied as everyone gathered around the Portkey that would take them back to the Council. “And that’s where we’re going.”  
  
............................  
  
Draco grinned as he popped onto the front lawn. The Council was throwing him a party for not going to jail, of all things. This came on the tails of a party for Violet, Rona and Julienne for not dying. He wasn’t sure he understood that one. His was to be a surprise party; at least it was supposed to be a surprise party. He overheard some of the slayers talking about how they planned on ambushing him when he Flooed into the parlor. In retaliation, he Apparated onto the front lawn and was going to walk in through the back of the parlor.   
  
What had him smiling wasn’t his plan, although it was genius, but the fact that he could see a red head of hair near the front steps. As he got closer, his suspicions were confirmed. Violet and Julienne were out on the steps, where they were almost always found when not training or in school, especially since they’d been released from Azkaban.   
  
The few weeks they were back home had been good for them. The girls were no longer emaciated and their skin was vibrant and healthy. Their clothes were clean, hair was neat, and they were steadily gaining their strength back. Their emotional state was a different matter, but the physical one was healing quite nicely.  
  
Rona decided to travel with Xander to help him recruit the new slayers they discovered. Draco didn’t blame her one bit. She never wanted to stay and mentor slayers, and her young slayer, Elizabeth, was happily reassigned to a soft-spoken, kind slayer named Caridad that everyone called Cari and liked to irritate him by smiling at him when they crossed paths.   
  
Julienne noticed him first. She lost some of her innocence in Azkaban; the slayer was no longer scarily perky and upbeat, but she had started smiling again. He considered that a huge step for her and was disgusted with himself when he would catch himself trying to make her smile more often. Julienne was also more alert and aware of her surroundings. She nudged Violet with her foot, and the slayer looked up, a smile gracing her face.   
  
“Draco!” The smile was quickly replaced with a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be coming through the parlor Floo?”  
  
Draco smirked at her. “I’m not an idiot. While I appreciate the gesture, I’m not a fan of surprise parties. Most of my friends tend to hex first and ask questions later when ambushed with screaming hoards. I decided to spare everyone the horror of it.”  
  
Violet shook her head and stood up, wiping off her pants. It reminded Draco of the first time he arrived at the Council. Julienne stood on his other side, wrapping her arm around his own. She was very attached the days after he brought her out of Azkaban , and whenever he came around after that, she always grabbed onto his arm. Draco just pulled her in closer and led her into the Council. They were trying to get her to distance herself, but he was willing to humor her today.  
  
“So, how’s the building coming?” Violet asked.   
  
“Very well, but we’d be done if Granger wasn’t harping on every little detail.”  
  
Davies had been called back the moment the scandal the Ministry was trying to cover up exploded and helped expose the massive conspiracy against the Council. Once that was done, both he and Granger quit the Ministry and the three of them were starting up their own consulting business as a final “fuck you” to the Ministry. So far, they only had one client, but the Council was big enough to keep them busy for a while before they became truly established.   
  
“She’s just doing her job. You didn’t have to hire her, you know,” Julienne said, and Draco rolled his eyes.   
  
“We’re partners, Julienne, not employers to each other. I didn’t hire anyone.”  
  
That wasn’t the truth, because he had already hired someone. Julienne expressed a wish to stay away from the slaying world for a while, and Draco offered her a job at the business to save her from boredom. The social interaction would do her good and he was confident she’d get back to slaying in a few years.   
  
They continued the walk to the parlor in silence. Draco cast a Silencing Charm on the door and let Violet and Julienne sneak in first to take suspicion off of the opening door. He slipped in behind them and waited for a few moments, crossing his arms. No one noticed him just yet.   
  
“Well, this is exciting,” he said loudly, and grinned widely when the entire room jumped in surprise. He was happy to see Davies had gotten a hold of Pansy and Blaise, who didn’t look shocked at all. Pansy rolled her eyes and Blaise grinned at him. They should have expected that.   
  
Granger pushed her way through the crowd of slayers still congratulating him to cross her arms and tap her foot at him. His eyebrow went up in amusement. “How long have you known?”  
  
“When did you first plan this?”  
  
“I first talked about the idea two weeks ago Sunday morning at breakfast.”  
  
“I knew about the idea two weeks ago Sunday afternoon at lunch.”  
  
She let out a growl and stomped her foot. He laughed, waving her off.  
  
Once the party started in full swing and he was congratulated by every person in the room, Buffy came up behind him. “Thanks for not letting it slip that I was the one who told.”  
  
“In your defense, I was eavesdropping on you. You didn’t actually tell me.”  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I explained the plan in detail outside of your room.”  
  
With a grin, Draco raised an eyebrow. “You should have just shut up and left the conversation at the part where I defended you.”  
  
The slayer nudged him and he smirked. Julienne had gone off to retrieve drinks and when she handed him his own small cup, she immediately attached herself to his side again. Buffy looked over at her worriedly but Draco shook his head. It was a crowded room, and he was feeling magnanimous today. They would address it later.  
  
Rupert came over to put in his congratulations and they began talking about various business techniques. During the girls’ stint in Azkaban, Draco met what everyone called the “Ripper” side of him, and his respect for the man went up a notch. He was also determined to keep him away from his father. They would either plot and take over the world or kill each other.  
  
“Do you have any other clients?” the older watcher asked as he took a bite of some crackers he’d grabbed from the buffet.   
  
“No, the Council is our sole priority, but I know we’ll be getting some more action soon. Things are fairly boring right now.”   
  
All talking stopped suddenly when Granger fired a hex at Blaise, who no doubt had made a smart arse comment, causing him to duck and a scorch mark to appear on the wall behind him. Draco just grinned, taking a sip of his drink.   
  
“I stand corrected.”   
  
**THE END**


End file.
